


To Live Again

by Wunderkind4006



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Middle Earth Setting, Drama & Romance, F/M, Family Drama, Major Character Injury, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Romance, Second Age, Young Legolas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-09
Updated: 2015-02-09
Packaged: 2018-03-11 08:36:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 102,079
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3320888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wunderkind4006/pseuds/Wunderkind4006
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Is it possible to die and come back to another world? For Clara Riley it just might be! A daydreamer and lover of all things fantastical Clara gets the shock of her life when she wakes up in Greenwood when she should be dead! </p>
<p>A little AU story I wrote on a whim because I wanted to try writing something new, future ThranduilXOC romance and lots of fun like that. Set in the late Second Age before the Last Alliance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing bar Clara and her craziness, everything else you recognize belongs to the 
> 
> Yea I do not normally write this stuff but I just got the idea from different fan art pictures and other things. I want to explore the middle earth world from this point of view, so its purely for entertainment value. I know not many people agree with this style of story but please don't hate I am just stretching my creative muscles.
> 
> Please if you like I always appreciate feedback and I communicate regularly with my reviewers, so please let me know if you like :)

Chapter 1

"Yea okay! I know I'm sorry it's just I have a deadline and if…look I promise…please Ted just this once…I'll work double at the weekend…Ted? Seriously did you just hang up on me? Ugh!"

The ancient receiver hits the pay phone with such force that it clanks loudly making the passers-by on the college mall stop and gawp for a moment too long. I scowl furiously at them determined to muster my best 'piss right off,' look but still they continue to stare or giggle. I feel the heat of shame and anger rise up my neck and into my cheeks, so I do what I know best, I storm off. Only it does go as smoothly or as dramatically as I would have liked, instead the strap of my satchel gets caught on something, god knows what, and my folder full of clippings and sketches tumbles out of my arms and all over the ground. If I did not have the attention of the entire hallway before I most certainly did now!

The early pink flush on my cheeks intensifies until I am pretty sure it is a delightful beetroot colour. I am aware that there are audible laughs in every direction and as I scurry to pick up my mess I chance a peek and sigh when others duck to avoid eye contact with me. Honestly to be invisible would be perfect, people who complain about being invisible are lucky at least then they do not have to be the butt of everyone's jokes! I am not invisible, at six foot tall with bright blonde hair, usually with a streak of colour, it is hard to miss me. Don't get me wrong I don't want to be invisible but sometimes I wish I was less noticeable for my awkwardness and more visible for my positive traits, which at the present moment none come to mind. Once gathered together I shrug my long forest green cardigan tighter around me and cling to my belongings like they are all I have in the world, and dash for the safety of the studio.

It's not far from here, the art department; it is usually a rather empty place. Ireland is not exactly renowned for being the hustle and bustle of the arts world but it is has a certain charm. I throw open the doors and scuttle to the back of the large 'creative,' space, as the tutors like to refer to it as. My canvas is still there untouched and beckoning me to pour all my free time into it, as I have to this point. It's my baby, my first love, everything that I love in this one painting. It's a woodland, but not the usually kind, it is full of wonder and life, like it could belong to the realm's outside of this world something from a fantasy where anything is possible. I've added bits and pieces to this world, things that I love hidden in the dense overgrowth, mystical beings, elves maybe or fairies? Right here in front of this picture it is all possible for them to exist and I lap it up for my reality is hardly as fascinating.

I frown at my childish ridiculousness and grip a fine paintbrush and begin working on the glinting stars in the navy sky above the enchanted forest, I want them to appear ethereal and captivating to look at, like silver gems pinned to dark velvet. For a few hours at least I can pretend I am not a lonely twenty something, with no friends her own age and lack of a family; here I can live in my head and create any story I like where I am the lead, the warrior queen, capable of ruling her own fate and not having her life dictated to her.

My reality is something different, something blander and less interesting. Born Clara Josephine Riley, I was more affectionately named Josie after some well to do great aunt who was long dead before I ever came to be. I did not know my mother she took off long before I could count to three, fell for some American banker who offered her much more than my Da ever could. As the tale goes she apparently never wanted me and felt pressured into mortherhood and married life, so she seen her chance and got out. Da could not cope with the responsibility of raising a kid on his own and off loaded me unto his sister, Tricia, setting him free to return to the single life with gusto.

It was not a bad life by no means Aunt Tricia and Uncle Rob were kind enough but they had four of their own to rear, I wasn't up on their priority for attention. Regardless Tricia felt a sense of duty and responsibility for the quiet and quirky kid or her flaky younger brother had cumbered her with. I grew up in a nice home, an old farmhouse in the pretty rolling hills of a sleepy Irish town with my beautiful and completely perfect cousins; Ted, Mary, and the twins Izzy and Frey. If the truth be told they were devils, every one of them, Ted the most idiotic and biggest asshat you could ever meet, how I ended up working in his bloody club and restaurant I shall never know!

Mary is a doctor and engaged to a doctor and plans to have lots of intelligent children who will all be doctors too. Izzy or Isobel as she now goes by is on an all-expenses paid gap year in Australia, and her twin Frey or 'Freya' which she does not go by, is actually doing an art degree at the same college as me but is only in her first year of her bachelors being only a sweet eighteen. That said she would rather pretend I did not exist than admit to that, she is by self-declaration a complete 'dosser,' who is only doing art because "Daddy wants me to go to college but I just want to marry Aidan and move to New York City," Frey is an air head and Aidan is a prat who thinks he is going to be a world famous rockstar. I've heard his stuff, he most certainly is not the next Bono, maybe a janitor but not a musician.

Me on the other hand I have scrimped and saved and took out every loan going to do this course, I had to defer my offer of acceptance for three years until I had saved enough to move into student accommodation, and out from under my Aunt and Uncles feet. They'll mew and say I was no trouble, but I know when I over stayed my welcome. They paid for basic things and got me set up, all things I am thankful for, my excuse of a Father would rather hold out his hand to claim money off me than put it in his own pocket for his only child.

So here I am living the dream, well not that much of a dream. When I'm not in the studio I am working to pay for the bills, and my gracious cousin Ted has me working every spare shift and then some. If not there I am passed out sleeping in my teensy, tiny, dorm room or volunteering at a local youth club for disabled kids, but honestly it will be worth it in the end. I've already received my acceptance letter onto a fast-track teaching course, because that is what I want; I want to teach art to disabled kids. It has been a long road but I think I am nearing the end of the tunnel, I may be crippled with debt, lonely and lack any kind of social life, but when I get there it will be because of me and my hard work, and not because Mum and Dad paid for it.

I smile triumphantly and nod at my own small achievements because by nature I am fiercely independent and guarded. There is a lot in my past that sucks, I was a quiet, strange kid that was too tall and spent too much time away in her imagination, because of this I was bullied relentlessly. I stopped trying to make friends, pushed people out and was disbelieving and suspicious of any one who tried to get close. There was one though, Trent, a cocky misguided bad-boy who captured my heart with his imagination and easy going nature. I loved him with all my young heart, gave him everything and believed he would take me away from the monotony of my dull life. He promised me security, love and a family, everything I did not have and for awhile I thought it was truly happening. But disaster struck when a raven haired beauty slinked into our lives and promised him something much more exotic. Lisa was incredibly seductive and so much more mature than I was, she took me in too pretended to be the best friend I always wanted, and before I could blink she took everything and left with Trent. So left without even my pride I threw myself back into my work more determined than ever to succeed and prove every asshole that had ever doubted me wrong!

So many memories, too many memories I feel glum just watching them replay in my mind! Absently I stretch over the counter top and knock the volume up on the radio, aptly Katy Perry's Part of Me is blasting from the speakers, I cannot refuse a good pop song filled with girl power! So using my paintbrush come mic I begin to sing, loudly and probably not in key, but who cares its late and I'm the only loser here. It does not take long for the catchy beat to distract me and soon I'm dancing around the room preforming to my adoring fans, because if I wasn't weird enough I also fancy myself a popstar. The floor is decidedly not the best stage and I hop onto a chair and then jump on the long table taking up the length of the back wall. From here I bust out my best dance moves and work on my inner diva. The leaping about is hot work and I rip off my cardigan flinging it out to my screaming fans, whilst the song reaches its crescendo I do my best fist pumping finale and land on my knees on the tabletop breathless but pretty delighted with myself, that was fun!

It is at this point I realise that my imaginary crowd ain't so make believe, and in actual fact I am being watched by Frey and a dumbfounded Aidan, plus some other hipster chick who looks to cool to be gracing the art room of the local college.

"OH MY GOD Josie this is a public place! Ground swallow me up I could just die! Aidan, Sky, erase this from your memory this freak of nature is not related to me!" Frey roars her honey coloured curls springing about her shoulders as she shakes her head vigorously.

I smirk at my frazzled cousin, because frankly I am a lot embarrassed but the edge is taken off by the fact Frey is more freaked out than I am. And who the hell calls there kids 'Sky,' in Ireland?

"Hey Frey!" I salute her and hop from the table, "I presume this is not a social visit?"

"Actually!" she defends and pouts her perfectly rosebud lips, "Aidan and I thought you would like to come to his gig tonight."

"Aidan and you?" I raise a disbelieving eyebrow and shoot the sandy haired, lanky, high as a kite kid a questioning look, he shrugs and offers me a goofy smile. Whoa remind me never to indulge in recreational drugs to the extreme I think he has fried all of his five brain cells, gawd Uncle Rob must hate his guts.

"Well thing is I actually want to complete my degree Frey and I have a deadline looming, so rain check sweetness?" My reply is dripping with attitude and I wink for added patronizing effect.

"Yea you looked really busy babes," Frey smirks back, "Say aren't you meant to be pulling the late shift at Teddy's club? Where Aidan's gig is? Maybe I will have to tell my dearest brother what you're really up to?"

So that was her game, typical demon spawn siblings, Ted has called Frey and asked her to check I was actually working in the studio instead of skiving on him. Seriously? They guy is a paranoid twit or just the devil in disguise! I narrow my eyes at the petite minx that is my little cousin, in her fish nets and wrap dress looking like something you'd pick up on a street corner and sigh;

"Tell him what you want Frey I don't play games!" I mutter and return to my canvas.

"Oh I will!" She promises threateningly and waits for a few minutes expecting me to bite, but I don't I just focus on my work, unsatisfied she continues her taunting. "Your painting sucks by the way, your style is so ancient and childish! What is it something from Middle earth? Grow up Josie your twenty five fairy-tales are for kiddies!"

The hipster chick stifles a giggle and decides her opinion is needed; "Oh my god like do people still like that stuff, nerds are so weird."

"Like oh my god Sky! Did I like totally ask for your opinion?" I snap back in my best impression of her, really a bratty hipster kid is gonna try and bad mouth me? What in the hell is this world coming too? Sky tuts and flicks her blue hair, yes electric blue hair, over her shoulder dismissively.

"The energy in here is so tense," Aidan decides to interject and backs towards the door, "this is totally stifling my creative energy, I can't have this before a gig!"

I just about manage to stop myself choking with laughter as he lops out the door and I'm the freak? However Frey is glaring at me with a thunderous look and motions for Sky to follow Aidan to check on him;

"Seriously Josie? Look what you did! He has a gig!" She spits and stamps her leather boot clad foot.

"Frey honey I swear the tense energy will not affect his performance in any way!" I reassure and stifle a chuckle.

"It better not! We were only trying to be nice and invite you out but I see your intent on being a recluse!" Frey crosses her arms defiantly about her chest and stares me down, and has not the faintest notion that I was actually insulting her boyfriend and not actually reassuring her, clearly intelligence skipped right over her in that family.

"Frey sweetness you are a couple of eighteen year olds, as much as I appreciate the thought," I am such a bad liar, "I think I might cramp your style."

"Yeah your probably right babes, I mean you're really not that into normal things," She replies with actual sympathy in her eyes, oh dear god she actually thinks she is the mature one. I feel my temper flare, truthfully I've never had much patience for Izzy and Frey, and I work hard to suppress the urge to strangle her with my bare hands.

"No I guess I'm not," I manage to say through gritted teeth and robotically wave her off, as she skips off after her cronies like she owns the world. In a way she does, she and her siblings all have trust funds and have their futures secured, they never have to worry too much about what will happen if they fail because Mum and Dad will be there to fix the damages.

I wait until I believe she is long gone before grabbing my keys and purse, I will be damned if Ted thinks he can spy on me! On a whim I scurry along the empty corridors of the college and out into the vast car park; it's cold and I've left my cardigan back in the studio but I don't care I need to clear my head. In nothing but my long grey vest top, black leggings and suede boots I race along the footpath leading to my rusted bean tin of a car. I shove my key in the lock and yank open the door, vowing someday I shall own a car with a central locking system and power steering. Once inside I start the ignition and fire up the heating, throwing the car into reverse I hastily exit the college and hit the road.

Apart from painting, driving is my second most favourite thing to do to calm me down and help me relax. I wind my way through the roads heading into the hills, which are never that faraway in Ireland, heading for my favourite spot. It is dark out and I am probably insane for doing this but I am occasionally a bit reckless, but I need the space and the woods will give me inspiration. After thirty minutes of country road driving and several attempts at tuning the radio I reach my desired location, a simple wooded area favoured by the dog walkers and over fifties power walkers. Slamming the door behind me I stalk along a well-trodden path to a lookout point, with its rickety old bench.

I quietly settle myself on the bench and shiver against the cool April night, the air feels damp and I eye the sky with suspicion. The overhanging clouds are heavy with rain, nothing new for the emerald isles, but I have a little while before it begins. I sigh and breathe deeply enjoying the stillness of nature, here at least things are simple. I come here a lot when I need creative inspiration, or if I just want to sit by a tree and talk. Well if it was good enough for Tolkien's elves it is good enough for me!

I must sit in this place for at least an hour when I suddenly realise my fingers and toes have went numb from the cold, and great drops of rain water begin pounding off the ground around me. Begrudgingly I leave my sanctuary and make for the car reaching it in time when a loud crack of thunder startles me. I slip into the driver's side and numbly work the heading dial, my fingers protesting against the cold. I shiver uncontrollably as I just about manage to get the key into the ignition and turn the car onto the road.

The heavens open and the rain falls like a waterfall, making it hard to see or do anything other than grip the wheel of my steering wheel and crawl along the road. I squint through the watery haze and curse my ancient car as the windscreen fogs up, I rummage through the glove box and find a sponge, leaning across the dash I quickly try to clear the screen. I know I should just pull over, my instincts are telling me not to drive in this and just pull over, but I am bloody determined and pig headed when I want to be. If I had of known this little stunt would have spelt disaster I might have reconsidered my impromptu trip, but fore sight is a wonderful thing.

A blinding light and the sound of a horn wails through the atmosphere, reaching my ears a little too late. I gasp and swerve, but I misjudge the timing, I misjudge my whereabouts, I misjudge everything. Before I can do anything, before I can even form a scream of terror I see the barrier that warns a driver of the sheer drop below them. I know the car is going to crash through the barrier, I know it because I can it happening I can feel the impact, I know I am going to die and in that moment I despair because everything I could have been flashes before my eyes. All that was and all that was supposed to come, everything laid bare in one incredibly long moment and I realise it was a pathetic attempt at living. I wasted a life and now its over with no one to miss me and no one to care, I absently wonder how long it will be before someone realise I'm gone, and if they will even mourn? I close my eyes and savour the last beats of my heart ready to accept oblivion.

xXx

"Are you sleeping?"

I hear a high soprano voice somewhere in the distance, its light and feathery like an echo, it asks the question again and I ascertain that it is a child's voice. I feel pain, oh god I feel pain, everything is on fire I want scream but my face hurts too much to cry out. The child shouts again only I'm too lost in the pain to care, I can feel the conscious part of my mind begin to wake up just in time to brutally remind me of the agony raging through my skull, it feels like it has been smashed to pieces. I am not dead, how am I not dead? Please I want to be dead, I can't survive this pain its too much, my chest it hurts to breathe, I am suffocating. I hear another voice, an adult voice and feet and hands, I focus on that anything to distract myself from the pain.

"Aiya! Little one run and fetch the guards and quickly! Tell them to bring a stretcher and alert the healers."

I like this voice it is kind but strange, foreign even? Light footsteps scurry off and I feel a warm hand on my forehead, so my skull is not smashed in?

"Can you hear me mellon nin? Come now you must wake up?"

I try to answer the voice and to my surprise I feel my eyelids flutter, the searing brightness is too painful to comprehend and I moan loudly.

"That's it nice and slow, focus on my voice, you are going to be alright my dear you are safe now."

I strain against the disorientating colours until a face comes into focus, I feel my lips part and a tiny gasp escape my lips. The face is not human it cannot be, it is an angel it has to be? I am must be in heaven but why is heaven so damn painful? The man before me has gleaming silver hair and light blue eyes, which look like a summer day. His face is so fair it is captivating to look at and he almost instantly steals my pain away. He smiles kindly and his voice is like silk;

"What is your name fair one?"

"Ummnugh," I gurgle in response and taste the metallic flavour of blood on my tongue, he asks me again and I force myself to answer he deserves an answer;

"Clara," I grunt out, I feel my voice falter and I groan loudly again. I don't know why I say Clara, I have never used Clara as my given name but I just don't want to say Josie. It feels like a forgotten name something I should leave behind.

"Clara it seems you have been attacked do you remember what happened?" The kind man asks again, I just want to reach out and touch his long silvery hair to see if it really feels like silk, but instead I shake my head.

"Grandpa! Grandpa!" The high soprano voice startles me again and my head involuntarily jerks painfully toward the sound. "The healers are coming!"

The child stops and regards me shyly, he is the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes one. So innocent, so perfect; with his shoulder length fair hair and sparkling blue eyes, his skin is like fine ivory he looks like something from a story book, some sort of fae child. I vowed anyone that set eyes on him would fall in love instantly; I reckoned they would happily lay their life down for him.

"Excellent work my boy now come here and take Clara's hand, she is frightened and in need of comfort," The kindly man responds to the child and I feel my brows furrow, the boy had called him Grandpa but this man could be no more than thirty-five if that?

The child gracefully kneels at my side and I stare in complete wonderment, how can a child be that elegant and composed. He smiles an angelic smile and takes my hand, I find myself smiling back like a complete idiot, but the kid is captivating beyond words. I would never call myself maternal but this boy pulled on my very heartstrings.

"Do not be frightened Lady Clara," he tells me his voice so full of confidence, his perfect articulation baffles me he looks no more than four or five. "The healers are coming and they will make you better, you will be home very soon."

"Home?" I hear myself question in that rasping voice, "Where am I?"

The beautiful little boy glances at the man he called Grandpa with a perplexed look, it is so adorable.

"Greenwood my dear, have you no memory?" A flash of concern enters the angelic man's features and it looks wrong, someone like he should not frown. I can do nothing but stare at him and watch his expression grow ever more worrisome, I know the name Greenwood but from where I can't be sure my mind does not feel like my own. In the distance I hear more footsteps and more voices, the healers have come.

"Your Majesty," one utters to the angelic man who nods his head and steps away from me, I want to protest I want him to stay, if he doesn't stay the darkness will come again and I have decided I am quite happy not to die. I feel myself be gently lifted and placed on something, more hands, more voices and soft singing, someone is singing? It is a beautiful sound and I get lost in the melodious notes until I drift into some kind of dream like haze, it is nice here, I could stay here and that is what I decide to do.

xXx

Something ticklish wakes me, something pleasantly ticklish to my cheek and my eyes begin to open. I have no clue how long I've been out but it feels like years. The first thing I notice is the absence of pain, there is most defiantly no pain! This is about all I can fathom for several long minutes before my ears pick up a musical sound that sounds like a giggle and again the sensation of something ticklish brushes my cheek. I turn my head slowly to the feeling and am met with a familiar set of sparkling eyes and silky blonde hair.

"Hello?" the beautiful little boy from before smiles broadly at me, a blink mechanically and he giggles again. I smile at the sound for it's a wonderful sound.

"Hi?" I squeak back, my voice sounds off, well not off just softer not my usual roughness. The boy shyly ducks his head into my crisp clean blankets and then peeks up at me with an impish grin. "What is your name?" I manage to say inbetween an airy giggle he is so painfully cute.

"Legolas," he replies and props himself up on his elbows staring right at me; "And you are Clara, I rescued you, do you know that?"

My mouth drops open and I think my brain just melts, or explodes or decides to evaporate. He said Legolas, he is not Legolas, Legolas is a make believe character from a world that does not exist. Legolas is an elf, a warrior, for the love of the gods Legolas is Orlando Bloom! Legolas is not a five year old, incredibly cute boy with fair hair and blue eyes and OH MY GIDDY AUNT HE HAS POINTED EARS!

"Ears!" I gasp and the child looks at me like I am insane, in fact he looks like he is about to cry! Nice one you just scared a baby half to death!

Legolas touches his ears, frowns and indignantly asks, "What is wrong with my ears?"

"Nothing!" I answer shrilly and the boy takes another alarmed step away from me.

"They are no different from yours!" he accuses and points in the generally vicinity of my ears.

I robotically lift my hand to my ears and let my fingers trace the shape of the ear, to my utter astonishment they are not rounded, they are pointed and-

"Argh!" I yelp and drop my hand, really freaking sensitive, I am not quite sure what to make of that pain?

"Do not do that!" Legolas shouts in alarm and gives me a scolding look, I drop my hands into my lap and nod once. "You will go blind," he confirms with a serious nod.

"Why will I go blind?" I ask in complete horror.

"I am not sure that is what Ada tells me anyway," was his thoughtful reply. I do not want to think too much over that response, somewhere in my wonderful nerdy mind I remember a discussion about the sensitivity of elves ears and well, ahem, what that sensitivity pertains too. Why am I thinking about this, why are my ear pointed and why am I taking to an infant Legolas?

"Your Ada, who is your Ada?" I ask and almost dread the answer.

"My Ada is my Ada," was the kid's simple reply and again he looks at me like I have lost my mind, which I may well have.

"Yes I know but what is his name?" I ask again, irritation creeping into my voice and I work hard to suppress it.

"Thranduil," Legolas replies and frowns at me, "everyone knows that."

I slump back onto the bed and let out a groan, clapping my hands to my face dramatically. I must be in a coma and this is some kind of messed up dream, why could I not have died like an ordinary person? My brain cells must be frying up and dying, and somehow I'm having visions of my favourite story! I sigh again, well I might as well enjoy it while I can I will soon be nothing,

"Legolas am I in the halls of the Elven King Thranduil, in Greenwood the Great, in middle earth?" The question sounds so ridiculous but it kind of thrills me, how often have I dreamed about this? Whatever powers exist out there it was very nice of them to allow me this one last hooray.

"You are in Greenwood in Arda," the boy answers his voice confused but almost amused, "But the King is Grandpa, his name is Oropher he helped save you. Why did you think Ada was King?"

"That was Oropher?" I ask in awe and prop myself up on the bed taking in my environment for the first time. It was a surprisingly light room for having no windows; a fire burned in the corner and the bed was massive, much bigger than my puny single bed in my dorm. Everything was either carven into the stone or made of grey oak, it was so opulent and rich. Tapestries hung on the walls depicting elven history, some things I recognised some things I didn't. Furs and woollen blankets covered my bed and I noticed a tray of food had been set at my bedside; sweet smiling bread and tangy cheeses wafted invitingly towards me, making me salivate, this was an incredibly sensory dream.

Legolas had simply nodded to my question and with his quick mind ascertained my preoccupation with the food. He helpfully reached me the plate and cup of refreshing liquid. He watched curiously as I devoured the whole plate and gulped the drink down like some kind of half-starved animal. When I was finished he crawled up onto the bed beside me and observed me with those incredibly enchanting eyes.

"Where is your Ada and..um..mother?" I ask again realising the boy had been here for quite some time and no-one had come looking for him. Legolas dropped his gaze and his little face filled with some kind of great sadness that no child should have to bear, but it was something I was familiar with and I sucked in a sharp breath.

"Ada is away to war," he mumbled and tugged at the sleeves of his silvery tunic, "He is always away to war, Grandpa says he must go to keep me safe, but I really miss him."

"But I am sure you still have your mother to keep you company, you have to be a brave boy for her," I say as soothingly as I can manage but I am practically on the verge of tears for the hurting youngster. Legolas turns to look at me with a baffled expression and I get the feeling there is no mother either;

"I do not think I have a Nana at least I have never met her?" he says in a very matter fact of tone, "It is just me and Ada and Grandpa."

I bite my lip and rub the tears from the corner of my eyes before he catches them;

"Well if it helps I don't think I have a Nana either," I reply and he looks curiously at me.

"Really?" he asks eyes huge with questions.

"Yea I never met her so I have to assume she doesn't exist and I never seen my Ada very much either, so I guess he is not very nice either," I sigh aloud.

"Oh no my Ada is wonderful," Legolas responds with horror on his adorable features, "He is very nice and kind to me, I should like you to meet him when he returns, I think you will like him all the ellith like him."

I cannot help but giggle at this and even Legolas titters, I shake my head in mock disbelief;

"All the ladies and how do they act? I ask and lean forward having just as much fun as him.

"Oh they smile and tell him jokes, really bad jokes, some are not even funny," Legolas jumps up on the bed and begins to act the adoring fans of his Father; "They bat their eyelashes like this and they always want to hold his arm and sometimes if he dances with one of them they look up into his eyes like this, it is really stupid and Ada and I laugh about it later."

I am actually shaking with laughter now, this kid is amazing and if I didn't know any better I would say I successfully made a friend. A five year old figment of my imagination but a friend nonetheless.

"Clara?" Legolas asks as he flops down beside me and I nod in response, "If I introduce you to Ada do you promise not to do that!"

"I promise," I say although if memory serves me correctly elves are like super model Greek gods, and Lee Pace played Thranduil in the hobbit movie which is practically the next best thing. So there is a fair chance that if I did meet Thranduil I would act exactly the way the ladies Legolas so aptly described, though in fairness with my track record I would probably just dribble and forget my name. But I will be long gone by then, dead and gone, pushing up the daisies! I wonder if I'll have a weird encounter with Ned the pie-maker next?

"Good because that would be really silly if my friend acted that way around my Ada," Legolas makes a shuddering motion to show his repulsion at the thought and I laugh loudly at his animated features.

"Did you just call me your friend?" I ask and smile adoringly at the boy who has absolutely captured my heart and soul.

"Are you not?" he questions suddenly full of anxiety like he had never doubted the notion, I bob my head in agreement and grin widely. He throws himself at me and hugs me so tightly it's hard to breathe.

"Ah Legolas baby your choking me!" I cough out and he lets go instantly but continues to stare at me with those highly intelligent and inquisitive eyes.

"Can I stay here with you until I have to go to bed?" he asks shyly, "Grandpa is at a meeting and there is no one to play with."

"Sure thing kiddo," I reply breezily but point a warning finger at him, "but you have to promise me something?"

"What?" he questions back.

"You promise to tell me all about Greenwood, your Grandpa and your Ada," I reply firmly and fold my arms about my chest.

"I can do that!" he replies brightly and then eyes me with suspicion. "Can you really remember nothing?"

"Not a thing!" I cry and drop my head into my hands dramatically, "Please you have to help me remember before your Ada comes back."

Legolas nods determinedly accepting the challenge and plonks himself over my stomach, clearly his new found pillow, good thing I ain't that skinny and have a little softness to work with there.

"Where shall I start?" he asks.

"The beginning," I chuckle and he rolls his eyes adorably before starting off at his earliest memory. Truth be told I don't want to go to sleep in case I never wake up again, I concede that if the boy keeps talking then I will remain alive and so I listen with rapt attention to everything he has to say, like my life depends on it.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"One week!"

I whisper aloud as I stare at the messy script on the thick parchment paper before me. Since the night I met Legolas I had tried to mentally recap how many times I had went to sleep and how many times I had awoken in this strange but incredibly familiar new world. From my estimations it has been about a week from the moment I opened my eyes in this strange bed chamber, which is apparently a sick bay in some sort of elvish hospital, but lord only knows how much time had passed from my actual landing in middle earth. My eyes widen at the thought, middle earth? How is this even possible? I cannot make it fit in my head and I have the most vivid imagination known to man or beast, so why it so hard to accept?

"Because this is insane! This doesn't happen!" I answer myself out loud again and then I frown, talking to myself does not help my case, what is it like the first sign of madness or something? Jaysus I am officially having a conversation with myself, this practically confirms it I am mad, mad as a hatter. However crazy it seems I cannot deny the fact that it is happening and over the past few days I have tried very hard to wrap my tiny, overwhelmed mind around it.

The first step was coming to terms with my reflection; I had screamed blue murder when presented with a mirror from a very kindly elf lady who I presume is a doctor, or healer, or whatever they call themselves. She had only meant to show me the fantastic improvements in my physical state and that I was in pristine condition, no lasting scars or ugly deformities. What she hadn't banked on was my reaction, I assume she was expecting praise and overwhelming thankfulness but instead she got pure terror.

The reflection was not me, not really, I was there in the features sort of. The general shape of my face was intact but it was perfected, scarily so, there were no acne scars, no familiar freckles or moles. My eyelashes were fuller, darker and I think even Bambi himself would struggle to outdo them. They rimmed wide storm grey eyes, the eyes were familiar those were my eyes, but they shimmered and stared dramatically out at me, and for all that they did not even give away a hint of the turmoil raging away inside me. My hair remained light blonde, ashy but not platinum, I bleached my hair before and I should have been able to see tell-tale roots poking through, but nope this was all natural. My thick hair felt soft and silky to touch, it hung long in subtle waves just shy of the small of my back. My hair was long and naturally wavy before, if I did not iron the life out of it, but it was definitely three or four inches longer than what I remembered.

My body was slightly different too, straighter and more stream-lined. I was never skinny or lithe; I was always curvy and feminine in shape so I was relieved to see I had not lost that. But I was toned and my muscles and bones felt stronger less fragile like they had been fortified, I did not feel or look human. In essence I was not human, for a human could not look like this; the body was built for endurance to stand the test of time, like a noble tree that has strong roots unyielding and unchanging against the hands of time. I was an elf, why I was one I could not tell, but it was terrifying, life changing and invigorating all at once.

When I had recovered from that and the healer lady had managed to calm me down, I had to get used to other subtle changes. Changes such as not feeling the need to sleep, instead I seemed to drift away from conscious and return seemingly hours later, though it had only seemed like a moment. These states were restful and I enjoyed them, I felt stronger each time I returned from them. I also did not feel the need to eat the same, I mean before I would happily clear a roast dinner with all trimmings, plus a vat of Ben and Jerry's and still feel famished. Now I could go a whole day and not feel the discomfort of hunger, I still enjoyed food but it was not so essential for my survival as it was before, I reckoned I could go a long time before hunger pangs set in. My voice is softer and huskier than I remember, not rough with a brogue like my old voice. Though I still have my accent and I am fairly sure I have all my memories, and I think and I speak and act pretty much like normal. But I'm not normal I am an elf in middle earth, oh holy sweet mother of god, I am a fangirl in middle earth this could probably be the best thing that ever happened to me!

Legolas was a frequent visitor, he usually arrived just after lunch and stayed until he was scolded and made to return to his chambers, wherever they may be. I lived to see his angelic little face, for I really had nothing else to do with my time outside of his visits. Apparently I had sustained a broken ankle, my right ankle to be exact, it was splinted and I was made to walk with wooden crutches If I was even allowed to walk at all. Elvish medicine meant I felt little to no pain and I was reassured by the kind healers that the bones should be fully mended very soon, to be honest I did not mind if they didn't because I had not the foggiest idea what I was going to do with myself when I was made to leave the elvish hospital.

His visits were filled with stories and songs, because of Legolas I was kept entertained and educated on the world I was going to have to accept as my home. He was a settled boy, dearly loved by his Grandfather and Father, it would even appear that the pair doted a little too indulgently with him, but I assumed it was because he spent a lot of time on his own, so whatever time he had with his Father or Grandfather was always memorable and fulfilled. He talked about his Father with such adoration and revered respect that even I was beginning to fall in love with this absent Thranduil character.

I had only met Oropher one other time since arriving in his Kingdom; he had come to fetch his Grandson and was ever as gracious and kindly as he was before. He inquired to my health and my state of mind, and I politely answered all his questions but I really had no concept on how to present myself to a monarch. He seemed to understand that and accept it, but it was the briefest of conversations and I had the strangest notion that something was worrying him. I could not be sure but he seemed preoccupied and kept glancing anxiously over Legolas like something grieved him deeply. I put it out of mind of course, I was still in shock over being alive and elf no less, and Legolas' visits never ceased so I assumed all was well.

I sigh loudly again and place the quill back in the ink pot beside me, I have tried to sketch just to distract myself from the looming boredom that would be this long night. It was already creeping into the wee hours of the morning, I could tell by the stillness of the corridors outside my room. I wouldn't be sleeping tonight, I did not feel the need too and thus I was left stranded without my chief entertainer, who was probably tucked up in his bed like a good little boy.

Determined to find something to do I reach for my crutches and decide to go for a late night stroll. I was testing myself to see how far I could walk without needing to rely heavily on my crutches, unfortunately I was not getting very far, maybe the length of corridor. Still it was something to pass the time with and I liked the quietness of this place so I hop to the doorway and begin my adventure.

As I thump along the wide hallway, admiring the overhanging archways laden with sweet smiling flowers and shimmering lanterns, I pick up an unusual sound. Instinctively I move towards it, curiosity getting the better of me, I never was very good at minding my own business. As I awkwardly amble along the corridors I realise that at the far end there is a commotion, someone is being admitted and by the sounds of it they aren't in the greatest of shape. I sneak closer making out the forms of several healers all familiar to me, the King himself and a strange elf clad in shining armor.

What has my full attention though is the animalistic wails coming from the body they are carrying into a specified room. The sounds are blood curdling and I cover my ears to try and muffle out the worst of it. This elf seems to be in intense pain, almost to the point of death, because those noises sound like death. I cannot even decipher if the victim is male or female, I just know the cries of pain are intolerable and excruciating to listen to and I presume they are only a shadow of the pain the poor soul must be suffering under. Another agonising howl has tears prick my eyes, surely someone can put the elf out of their misery, and surely it would be better to die than live through such a nightmare.

"Do not give me sweetened words Elrond, I want the truth as harsh as it may be, is there any hope?" I hear the voice of the King, it sounds broken and inconsolable, it sounds like he has been crying.

"There is hope, he has survived the journey here there is nothing to suggest he will not live through this," the strange elf I did not recognise answers, his voice is strangely soft and calming, this must be the fabled Elrond half elven.

"But the injuries they are the worst I have seen in my long life, he should not have survived! Dragon fire Elrond? There is nothing left of him, he does not even resemble my son!" Oropher hisses again his voice sounds empty and hopeless. His son, then the elf is Thranduil, oh god, oh god, oh god, but what of Legolas this will destroy the boy! Nothing left of him? What kind of injuries did he sustain that would leave an elf so disfigured?

"It will take time and much work but I am hopeful we can heal the wounds and return his sight, but he is going to suffer Oropher, you must prepare yourself for this difficult task, and the boy too. I can heal him physically but the trauma of a dragon attack will be much harder to erase, Thranduil will not be the Adar Legolas remembers."

"Legolas will not see his Adar like this; it will scar him for life the child has been through enough!"

"It may help Thranduil too hear his son's voice, he has done nothing but cry for him, I fear his mind is being tormented I fear he believes Legolas is not safe,"

That's it I am balling my lamps out now, this is terrible, this is the worst thing I have ever witnessed. My heart is breaking for the kid I met a week ago, my heart is breaking for the injured elf that is tormenting me with his anguished shrieks, this is unfair a family as loving as this should not suffer this. I do not stay to hear the rest of the conversation, Thranduil's cries of pain are too much to bear and I cannot block them out. Even when I get back to my room and close the door I can still hear the agonising moans, so that is what it is like to be burnt alive? I clamber into my bed and pull the covers over my head determined to erase the sound, but my heart is in my stomach. How will I look at Legolas tomorrow knowing what I know now? I resolve I am the adult here and whatever I am faced with I will be nothing but a distraction for the little one, god only knows he needs it now more than ever.

xXx

It is very early dawn when the shrill wails stop and I am abruptly worried, what If he died? He can't die he is the elven king, famed warrior and royal pain in the ass to thirteen dwarves, granted that hasn't happened yet. I suddenly feel sick, what if in this reality Thranduil dies and is committed to history as nothing more than an elf who fell at the hands of a dragon, and not the Father of Legolas and notoriously ferocious elf king. This is unreal to me, I loved the tales of the elves as a teenager, I loved Thranduil! In what kind of sick twisted universe do I wake up in middle earth only to witness the demise of one of my most beloved character's?

In my panic I leap out of bed and lift my crutches, I have to be sure he lives, if I don't I'll go mad with worry. So I start my trek along the long corridor again only with a lot more speed than the last time. I reach the chamber that I seen them carry him into and I pause, scouting out the area checking no one is around to stop me. I take a deep breath and hobble up to the oaken door, gently easing It open, it groans in protest and freeze hoping not to disturb anyone.

I step inside the darkened room when I am satisfied no one is watching, I ease along the stone wall, my hand tracing patterns that the dim light of the fire casts off unto the walls. I let my new much more acute eyesight settle on a form on the bed, in the centre of the room. I cannot help the tiny gasp that escapes me and I look away ashamed and repulsed, I should not have come here, I should not have been so stupid as to think I could handle this!

There on the bed resembles something that might have been a tall and broad elf man, except that his left side is…what way can I put this…disintegrated. The whole side of his face, his jaw, neck, shoulders, arms and torso are burnt clean off him. I cannot see his legs for they are covered with a light white sheet, but I presume the left leg resembles the left arm. The extent of the damage is hidden by copious amounts of gauze and bandage, but it is all stained scarlet and blood already marks the fresh bed linen. I reckon these bandages need to be changed regularly for they certainly were not suppressing the damage. The left side of his face and head were heavily covered, with moist gauze on his eye, I assume some sort of medicine to try and salvage his sight, but the likelihood of him having an eyeball left seemed impossible. It did not take much imagination to conjure up what was left under those bandages, very little but bare muscle and bone, it was something from a horror movie and I wanted to be violently sick. The smell of burnt or rotting flesh turned my very insides and I heaved involuntarily.

I fought hard and managed to take another peek at the elf who I presume was Thranduil, this time I focused on his right side. Under the caked blood and roaring red peeling flesh there was something resembling an elf. His one good eye was glazed over but it was a hypnotic and indiscernible silvery blue, I doubted I would have the ability to create such a shade if I were to paint it. His hair, what was left of it, was platinum just a shade warmer than his Father's silvery locks. His lips, though bruised and chapped were full and the palest pink, almost like Legolas'. Yes I could see the resemblance now between Father and son, both their complexions were pale as ivory but were Legolas' features were delicate and childlike. Thranduil's were masculine and taut. His chest was broad and strong looking, capable of wielding a great sword with ease, his right arm muscular and defined just like the remains of his right side. I was certain that before these crippling injuries he was an incredible specimen of elven power and beauty. Even now I was enraptured by what was left of his fair visage, I just wanted to sit and stare into that astonishingly mystical eye.

"I am so sorry," I hear my voice whisper to him; "You could not have possibly deserved this."

Suddenly his eye flicker and a guttural moan escapes his lips, I jerk back and clap my hand over my mouth. I had not meant to disturb him, now I was going to cause him more agony! I should not have come here, who the hell did I think I was? This was not a beloved character from a book, this was a flesh and blood being that was going through hell and here I was just checking to see if he was still alive to settle my own selfish needs!

His settles his one good eye on me and in it I see sheer terror and inexplicable pain, his good hand clamps into a fist around his sheets and I watch in horror as his whole body arches upward as he howls out in pain again.

"I am sorry!" I cry and wave my hands uselessly in front of me, "I will get help!"

He roars again but I get the distinct impression that sound was not just a sound of pain but of frustration, even anger. I meet his gaze again and it is filled with hatred, I yelp and stagger away from him nearly crashing to the ground as try to secure my crutches beneath me. His breathing becomes ragged and he thumps and claws the bed with his hand. He wants me gone and I know that he is trying to articulate it but he can't find the power in his lips to order me out, all he can do is grunt and snarl at me. His restless movements cause him more agony and he shrieks out violently thrashing out, he has no control over himself and he hates it and I am witnessing it. I cannot even begin to understand his torment, to have lost all dignity and power to be nothing more than shell and having some stranger gaze upon you with pity filled eyes, yes I think I would hate me too!

The door to his room crashes open and the dark haired elf from before enters with another healer, he stops instantly and regards me with surprise and then looks to Thranduil and shakes his fair head;

"You need to leave," the elf I assume as Elrond responds curtly and brushes past me.

"I am sorry…I…I didn't mean…I…" I what? Thought it would be okay to just crash in on this poor soul because he is a fictional character in a book in another world and just wanted to make sure he was alive? Yea that sounds really plausible! "I am lost I wandered into the wrong room!"

"It is an easy mistake but that being said you must leave, he cannot tolerate too much stimulus," Elrond responds and pushes Thranduil back on the bed as gently as he can.

"Thranduil, stop it! Stop it you are going to hemorrhage again!" Elrond warns as the other healer tries to assist me out of the room, but I can't take my eyes off him.

"Thranduil think of Legolas, think of your little son he needs his Adar and you will be no use to him like this," Elrond continues to command the other elf and his violent movements cease for a moment. Thranduil clamps down hard on the bed, determined to not let another roll of pain send him into another uncontrollable spasm, I can see the flash of determination in that one good eye.

"Legolas," he murmurs through gritted teeth and reaches his hand to grip Elrond's tunic, "My..s-s-son!"

"Is here and is well and wanting to see his Ada, so please stop fussing and keep still!" Elrond's voice is light and almost jesting, but it does the trick and Thranduil loosens his grip, slouching back on his pillows with painfully loud moans.

That is the last I see as I am whisked out from his chamber and returned to my own. The kindly healer does not scold me, instead he speaks soothingly to me and helps me into bed before rushing off to fetch me a sleep tonic. I lie in silence and in darkness unable to shake the images from my mind, I fear this will haunt me forever. How can Thranduil recover from this? How could you ever recover from something that that? I have no words, nothing to fight away the doubt, why am I even here?


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"CLARA!"

I bounce out of the armchair at the bedside, one in which I had been curled up on since my encounter with Thranduil in the early hours. The sleep tonic was useless I was too distressed by the grotesque images my mind kept mentally slapping me with. But his little voice broke through my brooding and I was fully alert and upright. Well technically not upright I keep forgetting my ankle is banjaxed and I limp awkwardly to the side.

"CLARA! ADA IS SICK!"

Legolas is standing at my doorway dressed in what looks suspiciously like pyjamas, his hair is ruffled and his eyes are rimmed red from the obvious tears he has been shedding. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but for once in my life I actually lack words. I have comforted many kids in my volunteer work, I've heard all sorts of sad tales and consoled many a heartbroken child, but this is a little different this time it is almost personal.

"Grandpa says he is sick and I cannot see him until he is better…and and and-" his voice cracks and a torrent of fresh tears begin. He throws himself on the edge of my bed whilst I gawp awkwardly at him, he is sobbing great big heart wrenching sobs and I am doing nothing about it.

"Hey, hush wee darlin' don't you cry," I soothe and hop to his side mustering my best maternal voice not that I even know what that is supposed to sound like. With effort I wrap my arm around his little waist and haul him onto the bed beside me, he shifts his weight and buries his face in my side continuing to sob softly. "Now if your Ada is sick he needs time to get better and I am sure it will not take long-"

"Grandpa said it will be a long time, a really long time maybe weeks and weeks before I can see him," Legolas interjects and angrily thumps the bed in his confusion.

"Oh I see," is all I can manage to respond with, I bite my lip and attempt to think of something to console him with.

"Does he not want me there?" The child asks fear and distress evident in his perfect little features.

"No way!" I gasp and shake my head in vehement disapproval; "of course he wants you there but I think he is very sick and needs to rest. He probably wouldn't be much fun to be around and maybe he doesn't want you to see him sick in case you worry."

"I don't care!" Legolas shouts and shuffles away from me, frowning he adds, "he is my Ada and I want to see him!"

I roll my eyes clearly this child is used to his own way but I can understand, whatever worry they thought they were shielding him from was going to manifest in his heart anyway. The kid was smart, far too smart he knew something was amiss and he knew he had the right to be worried.

"Well maybe I can speak to the healers and see if we can arrange a time to see your Ada?" I suggest like I have the right to even make the suggestion; I should not be making promises to him if I cannot keep them.

"It is no use I already asked them!" he pouts and glares furiously at the door, I giggle at his tenacity he had every avenue covered he was obviously determined to see his Father.

The angry scowl stays on his face for the briefest of moments before he starts to sob again; I sigh and wrap my arms around him. He responds in turn and crawls onto my knee and rests his head on my chest. I find myself rocking him gently and singing Irish lullabies to him, this seems to settle the tears and quieten him. In my humble opinion, and it is just that, nothing can beat a cuddle! I used to watch other mothers or older sisters cuddle their kids and I was incredible envious, I only ever got one if it was entirely needed, usually from Mary she was often the more caring of my 'adoptive,' family. But it really does have a soothing effect; the evidence is plonked right on my lap!

I am too busy humming quietly to my little shadow that it takes a moment before I register a figure frowning at me from the doorway;

"Legolas I told you to stay in your chambers today," Oropher spoke his voice calm but there was most defiantly an undertone of exhaustion and frustration and who exactly could blame him? His son was an inch from obliteration just a few rooms up. "You are being pest child, come."

Legolas sits up straight and defiantly shakes his little head;

"No! I want to see Ada and Clara is going to help me!"

Shitshitshitshitshit! Kids! Why do they misconstrue and manipulate everything! I am scarlet I have never been so embarrassed in my whole entire life! This godlike King creature is giving me a look that could curdle milk and yup my mouth is hanging open like the incredibly classy doll that I am.

"Ahhh…Legolas…kiddo I did not exactly say that?" I back track and continue to squirm under the weighted and judgmental look. Legolas looks at me like I have destroyed his entire world, why and how can he do that with his eyes? I flit a look between both elves and stammer out almost words, well I may look like an immortal but I sure as hell do not sound like one! Dammit articulate woman this is a King!

"Letters!" I chirp and then cringe, I would face palm myself but I don't think you're supposed to do that in royal company. Legolas frowns in confusion and continues to destroy my soul with his accusing stare. "Ummm…or like…drawings? I was going to suggest I could…erm…we could write your Ada letters and pictures to…y'know keep him updated! Until as such times Legolas can see him?"

"Yes!" Legolas squeaks and jumps from my arms, oh wonderful, at least with the kid in my arms there was less chance of the Grandfather decapitating me! "Yes Grandpa that would be perfect and he could write back!"

Oropher eyes me with a strange look, almost like respect but not quite. He inclines his head to the practically vibrating form of his grandson. Oh he is so small and cute stood next to Oropher, so innocent and fragile with absolute belief in this idea. I drop my gaze mournfully, Thranduil will not be able to write back and I doubt he will even be able to comprehend anything other than intense pain for weeks, but sometimes the simple writing of a letter is enough even if it never gets to its destination.

"Legolas you must stop bothering this very patient lady," Oropher sighs and the child's face drops almost to the floor.

"I don't mind!" I interject quickly; frankly I am terrified at the thought of the lack of a familiar face in this place. The child is the only thing keeping my mind from exploding! "He is such a good little lamb; I honestly don't know how I would pass the time in here without him!"

"Please Grandpa? I promise I will not bother you again about seeing Ada if I can write him letters," Legolas pushes pulling out all the stops with this heart melting features. Honestly how does anyone refuse him?

"Alright," Oropher sighs and outstretches his hand to stroke the boy's face, "But not today, today you stay in your chambers, punishment for that outburst this morning and being disobedient"

The child does not argue back instead he drops his head and mumbles an apology, but I want to protest I don't want to be left to my own thoughts today! Though I can see the King's reasoning, if Thranduil wakes and starts howling the joint down again Legolas will ask questions.

"Now say goodbye to Clara, you will see her tomorrow," he commands and Legolas tackles me with another of his forceful hugs. Only this time he plants a kiss on my cheek and whispers quite a heartfelt thank you. I stare in shock and touch the side of my face he kissed feeling a little fuzzy, it is something special when I child trusts you. Without much fuss he scampers out the door at hyper speed and straight in the direction of his chambers.

"My thanks Clara," Oropher speaks to me, his voice even not a hint of emotion betrayed.

"No problem," I squeak back not quite sure if I am entirely off the hook, it's hard to tell with elves.

He stops and examines me intently for the longest moment and again I start to squirm, again being invisible would be awesome right now.

"The healers tell me you have not recovered any memories prior to your admittance?"

I shake my head and cross all fingers and toes in hope that he cannot tell that I am lying because I can't even handle the truth let alone expecting anyone else too!

"Your behaviour is quite strange and your accent is unfamiliar, perhaps you hail from somewhere beyond these borders?" He pauses for the briefest moment and does not allow me to answer; "It is inconsequential my dear I am sure records can be sought of your birth in the archives, in the meantime you will need to stay here it worries me that you may have some kind of head injury or sickness of the mind."

I snort out a chuckle, not the first time someone has implied I was crazy, though I register my complete lack of respect irritates the King and I turn my snort into a cough. His brows pull together in bafflement and he shakes his head before turning to leave;

"There is a pavilion just outside these halls of healing; it is quite a beautiful spot Legolas enjoys playing there. I would ask you to carry out any kind of activities with my Grandson there, I am sure you understand my reasoning for this? You have seen the state of his Father have you not?"

I swallow hard and attempt to find my voice; "I am so sorry, I never meant to cause any offense, I got lost."

Oropher waves off my comment dismissively and begins to walk away, I guess he does not really want to be reminded either;

"How long?" I hear myself ask and the elf King slows his step just for a moment; "Until Legolas can see his Father?"

"I suppose in a few weeks he will not look so…unnatural…after that it will depend greatly on my son's ability to come to terms with himself."

That is the end of the conversation and Oropher leaves me to my thoughts. I need to formulate a plan if I am to keep Legolas distracted for weeks! So with this in mind I hobble to the desk and begin making a list of everything I can possibly think of that I ever used to distract kids. I imagine this will be hard work, the boy is intelligent and insatiably curious, but I was the one who wanted to be a teacher so, dammit, I can do this!

xXx

*six weeks later*

"Good morn lady Clara!"

Calanon a friendly healer with dark blond hair and placid sea green eyes greets me with his usual charm. I nod in return and he grins pointing to the bundle of parchment in my hand.

"More letters for his highness?"

"And some very tasteful works of art too! Is there any point in asking has he replied?"

Calanon shakes his head regretfully and takes the bundle from me, I sigh in frustration. It has been two months since Legolas and I started compiling his diaries to his Father and as of yet Thranduil was yet to reply. I could have been more forgiving afterall he was badly injured maybe he could not respond, only I knew he was more than capable of doing so! After a week or two of his arrival the cries of pain had stopped and in their place a stubborn and resolute silence. Most healers were chased from his quarters and it was not the first time I had seen an elleth reduced to tears by whatever callous words he used. I was really starting to dislike him he was not what I thought he was, clearly Tolkien was not nearly honest enough about this one.

Apart from this astronomical disappointment my days were grand, wonder filled adventures. The Woodland Realm was phenomenal, better than what I could have ever imagined. Elves truly were the most fascinating of races; I spent my days blending into the vast halls of the King exploring them and just generally wasting time away. My nights were filled with song and tale, for now I was allowed to join the other healers and elves that frequented the healing halls. They took pity on me and gave me things to occupy my time with; I was allowed to help with menial tasks like collecting herbs and assisting them to make all kinds of marvellous elvish medicines.

I was learning so much and so quickly and I loved it! It was incredible to have this second chance, I stopped pretending like I was in a dream and started engaging with this succulent and permanent world. Still I wasn't completely integrated into elven society just yet, I was still seen as an oddball and the healers seemed to be amused by me, they indulged me like they would a child but I suppose I am only twenty five and that does constitute as a child stuck in an grownup elf's body, how surreal?

Legolas was my little liefeline, he did not treat me like this, he treated me just as any other child would. To him I was a grown up and that meant I deserved respect and good behaviour, well most of the time. It was also quite cathartic for me to help him write or create things for his Father, I missed my art and my creations and it felt good to use those skills with him, like I was useful and not a complete waste of space. Still I had hoped that the fruits of my labour would have been rewarded by now, I waited for the day Legolas told me he had heard from his Ada and they would have their grand reunion, but it never seemed to come and that saddened me. I know what it is like to wait on a Dad that never shows up.

"I would not worry yourself Clara it is not your problem," Calanon breaks through my reverie and hands a basket and a list to me; "Do you think you could source me these materials from the press please?"

"Sure," I reply brightly disguising my annoyance, correction it is my problem! I am emotionally invested in his kid he could at least have the decency to acknowledge Legolas, the child still held to his unwavering belief that his Adar would reply any day now. I had sort of hoped that when I was allowed Legolas back within the healing halls his little voice and boundless energy would have alerted Thranduil that he was near, I had hoped that would have done the trick. Sadly not, the elf remained a mystery to me.

I tramp down the hallway with a face like thunder, or mild annoyance, I have learnt my new facial expressions are not quite so obvious. Reaching the storage press were all the herbs and what nots are kept I begin rummaging; selecting what is required for Calanon's healing endeavours. I like this storage room for it is not quite a room as it is a long hallway, there is a small pavilion at the bottom were sunlight cascades through the gaps in this stone fortress. Plants and trees grow there; it is like a little oasis, another incredible creation that highlights the imagination of elves.

As I stand and stare out at the sunlit space I find myself gliding towards it, Calanon can wait for a moment; I am distracted by the colours. I reach the edge of the archway and pause realising I am not the only one here, a figure sits in the shadows on the opposite side staring back at me, I obviously startled them;

"Sorry!" I call as I skip into the sunlight and smile broadly; "I hope I did not disturb you I just couldn't resist the sunlight and the warm-"

"You are disturbing me this is a private garden," A raspy voice cuts me off and I know the sound, I have heard it once before. Instead of apologising and retreating I step forward and strain my eyes.

I do not believe it! It is him! Thranduil sits in the shade on a lounge chair; I know it is him because of the astonishing silvery blue eye that watches me. I cannot make out the other side of his face he has it turned away from me but it does not appear to be covered. Though he looks altogether much better than before and because of that I am suddenly incensed! Not only because he appears coherent but because in his lap is a book and in his hand a quill, he could have replied! He could have done something!

"You could have replied!" I shriek my temper blinding me but I am furious not for me but for Legolas! The elf does not even flinch he just continues to glare; "Your son! He wrote you letters and I have been defending you this whole time claiming you were too ill! And…and..look at you sitting there…writing!"

"Get out!" he spits vehemently at me, his voice is cutting and uncaring but I will not cry or curl into a ball like I want too, I simply stand and stare him out defiantly.

"No!" I snap back, "Not until you give me a bloody good reason that I can tell your son when I see him next!"

Thranduil's sigh verges on a snarl and he rips off the blanket that was covering him, the look he levels me with should have me running for the hills but I swore a long time I would not be bullied into anything again. Somewhere in my mind that little voce is screaming manically that this elf is royalty and you do not speak to royalty like that, in fact you really shouldn't speak to elves like that ever, but to hell with it I ain't form around here I do things differently! I am going to be locked up for this or Thranduil is going to kill me, or at least his body language would suggest he would if he could. I absently wonder what will happen if I die again, do I wake up in Narnia or storybrooke? Or Neverland? The possibilities are endless but I'd much rather stay here it feels like home as strange as that sounds.

Thranduil sits on the edge of the lounger studying the ground before him, his face pulled in and contorted, I do not think I seen an elf pull such expression since my arrival. With an angry tirade of words I assume are curses he attempts to thrust himself up from his seated position. I flinch at the sound for as he stands the curses turn into moans of agony, I can see the movements are causing him extreme pain and I am suddenly remorseful. He leans out and tries to use a close by pillar to support himself but his whole body is trembling from the exertion.

My eyes widen as he turns to face me for I see that he is in no way out of the woods just yet. The skin has started to return , it is red and swollen, in fact the left side of his face is nothing like his right, it looks like dark pink wax, shiny and stretched. Veiny purplish scars stretch across onto the right side of his face, indicating were the flesh is knitting together. Surprisingly a lot of his hair has survived and it is loosely held in place by a band over his right shoulder. I can see his left side fairs no better, swollen limbs that remain bandaged and hidden under oversized loose clothing.

"Fine! If you will not remove yourself I will leave!" He growls his words distorted as he only has command of the right side of his lips. But he can't, he physically can't, even if he wanted to leave his body is not going to allow him. I watch in disbelief as he determinedly tries to walk, or well what I assume is an attempt at storming off. I go to warn him to tell him not to be so ridiculous but it is far too late and I yelp as I see him miss his footing.

In an instant all six feet, roughly four to five inches of him, lands on the ground! He stifles as much of his yowl's of pain that he can, but I can see the devastation in him as he gasps and glowers at the ground, trying to claw himself onto his side thrashing about in frustration;

"What! Stop it you are going to hurt yourself!" I scold and run to his side.

"It is a bit late for that!" He spits and struggles away from me; I pull a face and force him to accept my proximity;

"Smartass!" I mutter and kneel down beside him taking a good deal of his weight.

"I do not want your help you disrespectful little witch!" his words are meant to be insulting but I've heard worse. I shrug and it irritates him beyond belief

"Yea I know you don't and I don't particularly want to help you but you need it, so what you gonna do about it?" I hiss back and grunt as I grip his good arm and start to trail him upwards; "Good grief you weigh a ton!"

"At least I am not a heifer!" He bites and gives a lopsided wicked grin. I purposefully yank him harder than intended and launches into another tirade of curses, eyeballing me with a great deal of resentment.

Once we are both standing and I am taking way too much of his weight I peek at him and in an indifferent voice present him with his options'

"Well now Prince, we have three options; one you sit your ass down and give me an explanation. Two you continue to storm off but you'll need me to do that and I will still demand an answer. Three you continue to insult me until I drop you on heap on the ground and leave you there!"

"You would not dare! I am the prince it is your duty and responsibility to aid me!" he angrily reminds me and I smirk.

"Actually I am not from here so no, my friend, I have no responsibility to you!"

"You are a liar and you should be punished for you insolence, you care for my son I have seen you with him in the hallways!"

"Oh so you do remember you have a kid?"

"How dare you make such an insinuation? How dare you even question the love I have for my own blood!"

"Great, then why don't you reply to his letters?"

There is a long, awkward, pause as the two of us engage in a stare off. Thranduil is breathing heavily with exhaustion and with anger and I'm, well I'm just lazily staring at him through half lidded eyes. He picked the wrong chick to mess with, what did he think cruel words would phase me? Ha! I've been through worse!

"Let's be honest this staring thing," I say and gesture back and forth to our eyes, "could last a lifetime, you're an elf and I am not entirely sure what I am, so yea this has to stop!"

"What. Is. Wrong. With you?" He dramatically asks, the unmarred eyebrow rises up his forehead in confusion.

"Oh I'd rather not open that can of worms thanks very much!" I mutter as I help him sit back on his lounge chair. "Oh yea how rude of me, hi I'm Clara nice to meet you!" I grin stupidly and outstretch my hand but he still is staring at me like I am insane.

"You're supposed to shake it," I say plainly and smile easily; perhaps shouting at record levels is not the way to endear yourself to someone. "I kinda woke up in your kingdom with no memory and a bit banged up. Legolas found me, and your Father, the King, but you know that, because you're his son and the prince not the king because Oropher is, silly me!"

Well I think I proved that I do indeed have a mental illness, because Thranduil looks like he is a minute away from screaming for guards or elves in white jackets. I cringe and offer an apologetic smile, tapping my head;

"Just checking I have got it right, truly I know nothing!" I lie my ass off, I know everything! I have a wealth of knowledge about Thranduil, I probably know more about him than he knows about himself. Again I am lost as to what the hell has happened to me, how is this even real? How am I talking to the not quite Elvenking? Ugh my head hurts again!

"Why are you not repulsed?" Thranduil asks still eyeing me with complete and utter astonishment.

"Huh?" Yes Clara excellent articulation thumbs up!

"You are not disgusted by my appearance and you do not fear me, why?" He elaborates and I frown, really he wants to have this conversation.

"It's just a burn, it will go away in time will it not?" I say and then realise how dismissive my words were, "No I don't mean just a burn, it's a terrible thing to have happened and I'm really sorry for you but you're alive you should be happy about that."

"I am!" He snaps back and presents me with a lopsided scowl which makes me chuckle. Oh I see were Legolas gets his temper from.

"You look like your son when you do that," I try gently pushing that subject back into the conversation. "I have been helping him write to you, well mostly I draw the pictures, your Father lets him visit me. If it wasn't for him I think I would have gone crazy."

"I think that ship sailed," Thranduil replies with a deadpan expression.

"Oh you know that phrase too?" I chirp and then scowl, "Hey! I resent that comment! I am not the one hiding in the shadows sulking!"

"So you do have some memories?"

"What? No I don't! Huh?"

"You implied that we have similar phrases that we use in conversation, which would suggest you remember where you hail from, no?"

"No I didn't"

"Yes you did!"

"I remember nothing!"

"You lie."

How did this become about me? Oh whoa note to self, stitch lips together and refuse to make eye contact with Thranduil for fear he will read my mind and unearth all my secrets with one word. I would be impressed if I did not think the truth of the matter could land me in the dungeons for eternity, I mean what else would you do with an elf you deem crazy? I peek around at the prince, he has a smug aura about him but, and I cannot be sure, but there is a hint of curiosity and amusement. He is enjoying himself, at my expense, what an ass but a very attractive one, bloody elves and their bloody charms and sharp minds!

"This was not about me!" I snap and fold my arms defiantly about my chest, "Are you or are you not going to reply to Legolas, because if not I would like to put a stop to the letters. There is no point getting his hopes up and I am not wasting his time any longer."

"No, please, do not stop!" Thranduil's voice is urgent and pleading almost, "I will reply but if I do he will only want to see me."

"So?" I ask incredulously.

"Look at me?" He gestures to his face and shakes his head, "This will terrify him."

"Oh come on grow a pair!" I retort and shrug my shoulders, "He is a smart little boy and he loves you dearly, do you really think he will be that worried about a burn that will fade? Are you that vain?"

"Grow what? Your words confuse me! I am not vain! I am concerned there is a difference!" He sighs in frustration, his fists clamping at his sides.

"Yes you are, you are incredibly vain, and that is why you are so cut up over this injury! By your son's little stories I get the impression you are quite the heartbreaker, or at least you are used to admiration, fawned over by females and idolised by young warriors aspiring to your level of skill. This injury has robbed you of that, the great Thranduil is no longer untouchable, and he is now weak and reliant on others, what a long way to fall."

A long period of silence ensues and he actually appears to be considering my little speech, I am not be the brightest or the bravest but I can read people. I suddenly feel a great deal of empathy and compassion for this strange character, life is not so clear cut as it is in books. I know what it's like to fall and realise nothing is permanent, but you bounce back its survival to do that. I sigh and attempt to fix my little outburst;

"Hey I don't mean to be hurtful, I get it, but you have a little 'un that loves you more than the earth itself. Trust me when I say it won't matter to him how you appear, because that's love, the right kind not the pointless sort."

"I understand," Thranduil murmurs and tilts his head towards me, there is definite tears in his eyes; "I am tired will you please leave me now."

I gawp at him in shock, I thought I had got somewhere but he seems intent on remaining closed up. I scowl angrily and jump to my feet, intent on storming off, and as infantile as it seems I want to prove that I can do that and he cannot!

"Clara do not misunderstand me," he calls to me and I stop mid stride; "You have given me much to think over, I will reply."

I nod once and continue on my way, I don't entirely believe him but what did I expect? An apology and complete assurance that he would see to his responsibilities straight away? In my experience Fathers have an innate ability to let their children down, even Uncle Rob was a dismissive Dad, preferring his work to spending any time with his wife and kids. Clearly this behaviour transcends entire other worlds.

xXx

I pad about my chamber in nothing but a towel, my long hair roughly pinned to my head, the long tendrils hanging down damp from where they had come in contact with the bath water. It felt good to bathe but water does not stay warm long when there is no plumbing. I stare mournfully at the copper tub that takes up the expanse of my floor beside the roaring fire, oh how I miss plumbing and instant hot running water!

As I wonder over the small miracles like electric, microwaves and pop tarts, things I shall never see or taste again, there is a soft knock at the door. I startle and whip my head around searching for appropriate clothing;

"Uh…one minute!" I shout as I launch across my bed and hang over the other side searching for a discarded robe. The door knocks again;

"Hang on! Inappropriately dressed woma-she elf- person inside!" I call with a hint of annoyance.

Once the robe has been retrieved from the dark places underneath my bed, I pull it on and scramble to the door. Taking a settling breath before yanking it open;

"Hel-" I stop when I realise there is no one there and I frown, I really did hear the door. I step over the threshold and step on something. Blinking I glance downwards and see a thick envelope with scrawling lettering. I recognize the language it is the language Legolas writes in, it is elvish and he sometimes patiently tries to teach me it.

Curiously I bend down and collect it up, folding it over and observing the lettering, as I do a smaller envelope is attached to the bottom. It is clearly addressed to me and in English. Hastily I rip it open and begin reading out loud in hushed tones;

"Clara; I hope that I am not being presumptuous but I assume from our meeting today that you do not speak our language. You do however speak some kind of fluent Westron, though I cannot fathom your accent it is alien to me. Please forgive my temper and harsh words, I would blame the restrictions of the injury but I believe you would see through such a lie.

You have my gratitude for not only taking the time to bring some comfort to my boy, but for reminding me that I have responsibilities to attend to. You will find the envelope in your hand is addressed to Legolas, if you would be so kind as to give it to him I would be most thankful.

I look forward to our next meeting, not many have the audacity to call me out on my flaws to my face. It is refreshing.

Thranduil."

I start to chuckle and shake my head in disbelief; well miracles really do happen! Maybe I was little too quick to judge and a little too hasty to assume all Dads were pathetic good for nothings. After all this is middle earth, a place where the just and the righteous live, maybe there is a little good in this world. I smile and stash the letters in my pocket turning to sidle back into my room, but as I do I catch the figure a good few feet from me. Thranduil bows his head and with the assistance of a crutch slowly, and with much more grace than I ever had, ambles back towards his own quarters.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the warm welcome & support for this little story of mine. I am very humbled.

Chapter 4

"Sit still! Or I will sit on you and squash your spleen!" I yowl as I trap a rather hyperactive and over-excited elfling in a sort of half head lock grapple.

"What is a spleen?" Legolas gasps breathlessly in between giggles, struggling with mammoth strength to escape my slipping grasp on his silken tunic.

"I don't know but it sounds important!" I mutter as I tighten my grip only encouraging a peal of infectious giggling from the imperious youngster.

This little skitter is going to be the death of me, I mean it I really do; I do not have the stamina for this! I forcefully drop to the ground pulling Legolas with me, he lets out a roar of laughter and I just about manage to slap him on the face with the sodden wash cloth, which I have been trying vainly to wash his dirty little face with. A morning of trudging through the depths of the wilderness, aka the garden, trying to catch 'yrch,' as he put it, has resulted in a not so clean little ruffian.

"Muhaha got you!" I cackle as I sloppily scrub his face. He grumbles incoherently and every time he attempts to complain I slap the watery cloth over his face and nab his cute little button nose. "If your Ada sees you like this he will ban us from having anymore adventures, you are just lucky I have an extra tunic tucked away in here."

"He won't mind," Legolas quips nasally as I've still got the hold of his nose. "Can I have my nose back please?"

"It is 'he will not mind,' and only if you promise not to get dirty in the next twenty minutes!" I scold but I cannot help the adoring grin I give him, he knows he has me wrapped around his little finger and plays it to his advantage all the time.

"I cannot wait to see him!" Legolas shrieks and hops to his feet bounding about with glittering eyes; "I cannot wait to tell him about our adventures and tell him the stories you tell me, I think he will like them, do you think he will Clara?"

I grin at the clearly delighted child and I echo his happiness. Although I was initially dubious about whether or not Thranduil would keep to his word and write to his child, it would appear I had nothing to worry about. The minute I handed over the thick parchment to Legolas a week ago, it was like all his birthdays had come at once. He read and reread the letter, soaking it all up and memorising it until it was implanted in his memory forever.

The letters came thick and fast after that and I was surprised at how tactful and truthful the Prince was with his little boy. Legolas was fully aware that his Ada was badly burned and that he may not look like his Adar, but was comforted by the fact that it was only a temporary thing. Thranduil had left the decision up to his son as to whether or not they should meet, Legolas naturally wanted too and had no concerns about what he might be faced with.

Today was D Day, very shortly he would be reunited with his Father and he could hardly sit still with the excitement of it all. I had kept him distracted and occupied most of the morning, at the request of the healers, while they changed Thranduil's dressings and helped him appear more elf like and less "monsterous," as Calanon had put it. I was baffled by the description, I did not see anything frightening or vile about the Prince, yes it was a traumatic injury but he was recovering every day, he was an elf for crying out loud! At least he would heal and have no physical lasting damage, on the surface at least. I supposed their horror was because elves don't usually deal with this kind of trauma, it is a rare thing for them and more of a shock. Luckily I was made of much hardier stuff, try picking glass out of a guy's face after a pub brawl gone awry, eugh, now that is disturbing!

The King had arrived a few moments ago too, just in time to tell Legolas off for looking like the swamp monster. Okay I admit he did not actually use that reference but it was implied and it was the image in my head at the time. After the child received yet another debrief and warning that this would be a difficult thing, I dutifully volunteered to clean him and return him to his Grandfather in time for the big reunion.

"He'll love them!" I say with a nod, finally answering the child's question and clamber to my feet outstretching my hand for him to take; "Come on you! Stop dithering let's get you to your Ada."

Without another word Legolas tows me along the hallways and past the amused looking healers. I laugh breathlessly as he pulls and hauls at me to hurry up. We slow when we approach his Grandfather and I bow awkwardly, this gains a raised eyebrow and almost smile from Oropher, well he should just be lucky I actually remembered to bow. Legolas scampers to his side and stares up at him with two very impatient blue orbs.

"Your Adar will see you now," Oropher instructs his grandson, rather formally, and puts a supporting hand over the boy's shoulder, "Do not worry little one I am beside you."

Legolas pauses for a moment as he observes the doorway to a private lounge area, one which is specifically cordoned off and used only by the Prince. He bites his lip and suddenly gazes up timidly at his Grandfather;

"Grandpa can Clara hold my hand please?" he asks with an uncertain voice.

The King stares pensively at the child for a moment and then to me, his brows furrow and he appears to be contemplating the merits of this idea. I feel a little flattered that the kid wants me with him but mostly I feel shocked, I should not be there it is a family affair. I would be overstepping the boundaries.

"Please Grandpa, Ada will not mind he says he would like to meet Clara," Legolas attempts again and Oropher sighs, turning his head he nods to me.

I take that as my signal to act because it is followed with an impatient look, so I scramble to Legolas' side and let him take my hand.

"You will help me to be brave Clara?" he questions with wide eyes, suddenly filled with anxiety. I nod reflexively and keep my eyes downcast and away from the weighted look that Oropher is eyeballing me with. I can nearly feel his questioning stare bore into the back of my head as we enter the room.

On entering the surprisingly well lit and airy room, I automatically let my eyes sweep the space. I find him immediately for there is no-one else here but him, I guess I was expecting servants and healers jumping to his every command, but surprisingly Thranduil is alone and sitting quite uneasily on a sofa by the fire. His head turned towards the fire and he absently chews on the nail of this thumb, his good eye, the only one visible, is fixated on the flames and filled with some sort of fearful emotion that I can't quite understand or grasp.

Legolas' grip on my hand suddenly turns vice like and he looks up at me with a worried expression, I attempt to keep my own expression blank and return an encouraging smile. I dart my eyes back to the Prince who seems to have left the present and has forgotten he is in company. I noisily clear my throat because I don't care who is, right now he needs to snap back to reality and acknowledge his son before the child erupts into tears.

"Ionneg?"

Legolas and I both whip our heads upwards to regard Oropher, who asked what I assume is a question or a term of endearment to his son, his expression is drawn in worry and for the first time I see ancient years fall on the deceptively youthful looking King. Thranduil starts at the sound of his Father's voice and he turns automatically to the sound. The tiny gasp Legolas gives has all three of us snap our heads to him; the child tightens his grip even more on my hand and obscures himself behind me.

The side of Thranduil's face that is mostly unmarked and therefore the most able to express his emotions, is momentarily filled with deep reverential love that I have only seen in the eyes of other people's parents. There is a great deal of relief and even the hint of excitement at having his little one within his grasp in his features. He automatically inches forward wanting to close the distance between he and his son, but I catch the briefest flash of pain as he moves and suddenly his face crumples in frustration. I see the utter devastation in his one seeing eye when he registers his son's fear and I am suddenly aware that he is giving me a pleading almost desperate look, because I am the one holding his child, I am the one that Legolas clings to, it is me that can force a change in this situation.

"Hey petal why are you hiding?" I whisper as soothingly as I can, kneeling down to be at the same height as Legolas. His eyes are too wide in his small face and he does not take his them off his father, there is a healthy dose of uncertainty in them but as of yet no fear. I gently reach out and stroke a strand of his golden hair, smoothing it behind his ear, before tapping his nose bringing his attention back to me.

"That is your Ada isn't it?" I ask with the brightest smile I can muster, and Legolas nods his head slowly in a dramatic bobbing motion, his little mouth hanging open in an adorable gawp. "Well aren't you gonna introduce me? You promised you would!"

Legolas nods once more only less confidently and he peeks shyly at his Father again, oh this is painful! This is going to take a lot of effort and seriously why am I the one left to be the emotional mediator, why is it always the woman's job? With a petulant sigh I sit right down on the floor and smile like something deranged at Thranduil, but Legolas needs my guidance he needs to know how to react, and neither one of his emotional mute custodians are capable of helping him, damn elves do they ever crack a smile?

"Hi!" I chirp at Thranduil who remains for the most part expressionless but I am nearly sure I spy an amused look cross his face. I then look to Legolas expectantly and nod encouragingly when he smiles brightly in return, he is suitably less anxious now that at least one of us isn't expecting him to burst into tears. Children don't like tension, 101 of working with kids, remain calm and confident and they do the same, if you're just going to freak out then you'll only scare them too! They sense everything, do not show fear…never show fear…they smell it!

"A Ada," Legolas eventually mumbles and then tucks his chin into his chest, suddenly all bashful and unsure of himself, oh he is a munchkin I could eat him up with a spoon.

With his eyes momentarily diverted I glance, probably rather boldly, at Thranduil and dramatically rolls my eyes gesturing for him to reply. He blinks robotically for a moment registering my suggestion and then I see it, the small lopsided beginnings of a smile on his expressionless face. It altogether changes his appearance, yes he is still pretty smashed up, but that smile reaches his eyes and it's genuine, he practically morphs into a softer more loving being;

"Na vedui Legolas! Cormamin lindua ele lle," Thranduil speaks in a language so beautiful my smile widens, even though I have note the faintest notion what he said, but it sounds wonderful!

It certainly has the desired effect as Legolas lifts his head and gives the most heart meltingly gorgeous smile. The spell is broken and I can almost feel the relief in the room, the look on Thranduil's face would be almost comical if not for the weighted tension of just a few moments previous. Legolas steps around me and takes a few confident strides towards his father, pausing briefly to wave for me to join him. I awkwardly clamber to my feet and allow the child to take my hand and lead me to his expectant Father.

"Ada this is Clara," Legolas answers brightly and glances up at me when we reach the sofa Thranduil is resting on. He straightens up and acts very much like he has never laid eyes on me in his life, oh props he is a good actor. Legolas notices none of this and carries on; "I saved her Ada! She was all alone in the woods because she had been attacked and I found her and got help and now she is indebted to me!"

Oropher clears his throat in the background and quietly reminds his grandson that elves do not keep other elves prisoner. Well I am awfully glad he cleared that up, I was suddenly alarmed as to how young master Legolas viewed our friendship. Thankfully the boy gave an impish grin and shakes his head;

"I am only joking she is not my prisoner! Clara is my friend she helped me write to you! But Ada I really did rescue her."

I start to chuckle at his ramblings and how he is still completely convinced that it was by his doing that I am alive and well today. In all honesty I don't care if technically it was the healers or technically it was the King, this little scallywag has been my knight in shining armour since I got here, so quite frankly I ain't gonna contest that statement.

"Rescuing fair maidens already my little leaf? Your bravery knows no ends!" Thranduil praises with adoring eyes, all of it clearly delighting Legolas who has now let go of my hand and is inching closer to his father.

"Can I sit by you Ada?" Legolas questions suddenly and he gazes worriedly at Thranduil's thickly bandaged left hand side. "I do not want to hurt you but I would very much like to hug you?"

Oh my heart, my shrivelled bitter heart is exploding out of my chest; this is too much I would cry if that wasn't entirely inappropriate in this situation. Thranduil stares in shock at the request and maybe more so at his child's quick observations, Legolas knew straight away to be careful with his poorly Adar and that was commendable for someone so young.

"You will not hurt me!" Thranduil exclaims and roughly wraps his good arm around his son, hoisting him up onto his good knee.

There is pain in his eyes and I can see him struggle to remain composed but Thranduil is determined to have this reunion with his boy, and I doubt that he cares whether or not he hurts himself further in the process. Legolas giggles and gently burrows into his father's side, resting his head in the crook of his neck. I wish more than anything right now that I had my camera! This quite possibly is the most touching thing I have ever witnessed and yup I can feel the tears, I am about five seconds away from an emotional avalanche.

After several minutes of restraining my sniffles I realise that I have completely overstayed my welcome. Oropher has even drifted to the other side of the room, feigning interest in deep crimson drapes, a comfortable distance that was neither intruding nor awkward. Me on the other hand I'm causally standing about a foot away getting all watery eyed over the tender scene, whilst Thranduil and Legolas are locked in a completely elvish conversation about heaven knows what, completely oblivious to my proximity. Yip I should leave!

I snap out of my trance and mutter some sort of goodbye turning on my heel I go to walk quickly out of the lounge. I almost get to the door, I was so close so damn close to leaving quietly and without incident, but no I was born without that ability. I catch my foot on some tall ornamental vase and it threatens to fall over, I automatically lurch for it and dramatically scramble to rescue it. In doing so I step on my oversized bag of a dress and slip forward, yes now I remember why I never did that whole maxi dress trend. By some sheer miracle, or greatly improved reflexes, I secure the vase and gingerly set it back in its place whilst simultaneously trying to regain composure of my splayed limbs. I keep my eyes downcast and can feel my cheeks burn scarlet, I know their all watching me I can feel it!

"Clara?"

I high pitched giggle makes me sigh in defeat; I guess there was no possible way Legolas missed that. I lift my head and grin goofily at the expressionless elf and his clearly amused offspring; actually in honesty Thranduil is not even looking at me he is completely uninterested in my embarrassing incident. What a prat! He could at least acknowledge my existence I did after all assist him to make amends with his kid! Men! Ugh! Well I guess I have outgrown my usefulness.

"Clara why are you leaving?" Legolas asks again only with a more serious and worrisome tone.

"Because I have too!" I say bluntly and then watch the disappointment mar his angelic little face; "Now why would you want me when you have your Ada now?"

"Please stay!" He pleads unleashing the full force of those manipulative eyes, "Ada will not mind at all!"

Before I can speak or formulate another excuse, Oropher glides to my side and inclines his head towards his grandson;

"Legolas Clara is to leave now; you are here to spend time with your Adar at your request. Clara does not need to be forced to stay to appease you."

With that said Oropher gestures pleasantly for me to follow him to the exit and I go to do so. A bit dejectedly though, I can feel this is the end there will be no more play dates and impromptu visits from the little one, and I am sad about it. No actually I am gutted about it, I don't know another solitary soul in this place, not a one, what do I do now? I have no Legolas to help or distract, I will have no Thranduil to vehemently dislike or be uncharacteristically abusive too? What will I do with my life? I feel slightly delirious, I think I need to lie down or eat a lot of chocolate and cry over chick flicks; only they don't have those things here! This is hell isn't it?

"You should stay."

My mouth hits the floor, I was not expecting this request and especially not from him! Thranduil lazily lifts his head to glance at me and smirks; clearly I amuse him with my undignified gawping expression. Oropher frowns and looks as if he is about to contest the suggestion but Thranduil sighs dismissively and continues to fix me with what can only be described as an indifferent look;

"Clara you may stay if you wish, we would be honoured if you do, but if you have somewhere to be we will not be offended with your absence." He directs the statement at me like a well-rehearsed line, something that just rolls off the tongue without any thought, but Legolas is nodding enthusiastically in agreement.

"Well sure I'd love to stay if I am not being intrusive?" My voice is very shrill as I am acutely aware of the King's obvious alarm at the suggestion.

"I would not ask for your presence if it was intrusive!" Thranduil sighs with exasperation and returns his attention back to his son; clearly that was the end of the exchange.

"Come Clara sit by me and tell Ada the story you told me this morning about the children of Lir!" Legolas pipes up and pats the seat beside him, eyes dancing with anticipation.

I dutifully do as I'm bid, mostly because I am still in shock that my presence has been requested by his highness! The feminist and modern part of my brain feels I should protest and not stay, just to prove that I am not his subject and I can leave if I want! But the giddy and innately curious part of my brain insists I stay and that is what I do; I go and perch awkwardly at the end of the sofa giving Thranduil the briefest of smiles.

He lounges back arrogantly and raises his one working eyebrow before speaking in an almost accusing tone;

"Yes Clara do tell us a story from your memory, which you claim to have lost completely."

"I have a vivid imagination!" I snip but manage to remain composed and unruffled by his suggestion, whilst internally screaming at myself for being such an eejit! I have been telling Legolas old Irish fables for a couple of weeks now, he particularly likes this one, I never considered the consequences of this. Like someone realising my memory is a little more intact than I first implied? Stupid observant elf people, stupid smug elf prince, stupid stupid me!

Thranduil simply smiles and gestures for me to continue my story, whilst Legolas burrows into his father keeping his small hands firmly clamped on his arm. Thranduil was not going anywhere without his son's permission, it was rather adorable to watch how the child possessively clung to his father, not even the slightest bit concerned or annoyed that he had not seen him in weeks. Children are so forgiving, things are so much more easily mended when you are young; you believe the best in everybody and assume they believe in you too. I start my story and let Legolas join in every now and then to give his version of events, which are always much more colourful and a lot more dramatic.

This is how we spend the afternoon and many afternoons after this first meeting. I am a regular figure in their lives and Thranduil never sends me away or appears bored with my presence. The visits that I would be present at consisted of me telling stories or playing games or making things with Legolas while his Father observed. I quickly came to the realisation that Thranduil did not engage not because he did not want to but because he couldn't, so my role was to do the things he could not with his son, whilst he watched on in amusement or contentment. It was nice to help this family but I knew deep down it would come to an end, it had to stop at some point and separations would have to be made. Thranduil and Legolas lived in a different class another world; I was merely a distraction and someone that brought them joy in a time of trouble. I tried not to think about that looming deadline, I really did, I was just content living in the moment because really it was all I could handle.

xXx

I stare mournfully at the nearly empty honey jar in my lap and then I look at the spoon in my hand with mild disgust. I have eaten almost the whole thing because it is the only surgery substitute I can lay my hands on in the god forsaken country! Why? Why is there no chocolate or ice cream or both? I would give my soul for a miniature tub of ben and jerry's cookie dough right now! Instead I have honey and a walnut loaf, okay I admit the walnut loaf is no more, I practically swallowed it whole.

I scrub the renegade tear from my face with my sleeve and reach for the bottle of wine I expertly stole from the pantry. Normally I am strictly a rum and coke girl but I am in emotional distress and alcohol is needed to numb the pain, so I shall drink anything as long as it promises to wipe my memory. I slurp down a large amount of the red wine and cough in response, eugh its eye wateringly strong, I shudder at the kick it gives and then sigh deeply which then turns into a sob and the sob a full blown wail.

I am alone, completely alone…again! No one cares and everyone is gone…again. Yes this is all very dramatic but I am grieving. When I had not seen Legolas in near on five days I went to Calanon and asked if anything was wrong, because I had assumed the worse the glaringly obvious truth never hit me at least not until the kind healer spelt it out for me. He told me Legolas was probably with his tutor because with his Father now discharged from the halls of healing, the little one would be expected to return to daily life and in layman's terms elf school or prince training, or whatever royal kids do around here. Apparently both the King and Thranduil were very concerned about the amount of education he had missed with all the upset and had wanted to return to normality as soon as possible. Which sounds wonderful and I'm all for that but a goodbye would have been nice! Flowers, a card, a memo anything to just let me know they were gone and I was dismissed.

So here I am on the stone floor of the larder, eating and drinking myself into oblivion. Well screw those guys, I am perfectly capable of living and surviving on my own! Yet I know this is a complete and utter lie, I am not at all able to fend for myself not here this is not my home; I have not the faintest idea what I will do when I am asked to leave this place. Where do I go? How do I make money to eat and survive? The elves are going to figure out there is something extremely off about me they are eventually going to know I am not one of them and then I will probably be exiled. Oh this was all fun games when I thought I was dreaming but this is not a dream and clearly something beyond my comprehension has happened! And instead of dying I have crossed worlds and am now in middle earth! I let out a groan and drop my head into my knees, taking deep breaths to calm the ensuing anxiety attack.

"I am crazy, this is crazy, I am going to die here, there is no way I am going to survive in this world I don't even know how to use a sword?" I mutter to the ground expecting it to answer.

"Well we shall have to change that."

I stare at the stone ground in shock and awe, did it just answer me? How strong is that wine and what is in that walnut bread? The honey it's been made from bees that collect pollen from hallucinogenic plants and this is the side effects! I'm high!

"Lady Clara are you well?"

My head snaps up at the voice, nope that most definitely is not the ground taking, yip it's an elf and oh look at that its Thranduil. I feel my mouth slacken and I sniff pathetically, and as inconspicuously as I can I wipe away the tears from my eyes again, I really need to work on how I present myself to royalty. I nod numbly and squeak something like a greeting as a bounce to my feet and try to brush the crumbs from my dress.

"You are crying? Why?" He asks his voice like a melody, he can appear so sweet and interested when he wants to. Only I know he is a grumpy old rat with a temper and a knack for name calling!

"No I am fine," I mumble and awkwardly curtsey which only makes him snort and roll his eye.

He shakes his head and asks no more, he pushes himself further into the small pantry still leaning on his crutch, but he is looking much better now. His skin has returned to a normal shade but is still deeply scarred and mottled, the blind eye that was once white and unseeing has recovered some of the astonishing blue shade, but it is still clouded so I am certain it still does not see much. I see he has gained a lot more control over his facial features, though he must naturally not give too much away, for he is very hard to read when he turns to look at me and inadvertently walks into a shelf. I giggle and he swears in a tirade of indescribable curses clutching his left eye he angrily snaps;

"I cannot see yet! I keep walking into things! Stop laughing!"

"I am sorry," I chuckle and ball my fist into my mouth in attempt to quiet myself, "but if it helps I walk into things too and I am not even blind."

"I am not blind!" He replies frostily but to my surprise lets out a soft laugh, "Though that comforts me."

I smile and shrug; "Glad I could be of assistance but why are you here…ugh…your highness?"

"For you," he replies and I feel my eyes widen and that familiar burn in my cheeks. "Adar has told me your tale and I do not think it is right that you should be left here. So I come with a proposition if you would like to hear it?"

He does not wait for me to answer and casually launches into his bright idea, is anyone ever going to let me speak around here;

"As you can tell I am not exactly on form at present but I am hopeful within a few weeks I can return to some of my duties, and it has been suggested I start training again in an attempt to remind my broken body what it used to do before the injury. So with all that I will require someone to care for my son, I am not keen on servants doing it and it is unfair cumbering my father with the responsibility. Legolas is quite attached to you and it would seem logical that I offer you the position, so if you wish it is yours."

"You want me to look after your son on a permanent basis?" I ask with disbelief

"In essence yes, you will live with our closest servants within the royal dwellings. It is a place to call home at least until you remember where home is. Everything will be provided for you and you shall be in want for nothing. It is an honorable thing to be asked to serve my family many would have liked this position."

"And you offer it to me? The girl that has no memory and you know nothing about? You trust me with your infant son, seriously?" I am beyond words but I could hug him, oh dear the tears are coming again, I must remain composed!

"I owe you a great debt for what you have done for us; consider this a payment of that debt." Thranduil replies graciously and bows his head.

"Well that is very gracious of you and I suppose I don't have a better offer so yes I would love the opportunity." I answer with a poised voice, but the ridiculous grin plastered over my face would suggest that all my Christmases have come at once.

"Excellent! I will send Raffyn for you later."

"Who is Raffyn?" I ask cautiously picturing some dark and mysterious character.

"The royal advisor and my Adar's closest servant, he will show you to your quarters and have you settled in." Thranduil answers and glances around the larder for a moment pulling a face; "What where you doing in here?"

"Um," I squirm and grimace, "Eating and drinking."

He raises his eyebrow keeping a deadpan expression; "By yourself in a cupboard?"

"Sometimes I like my own company," I mutter feeling a little petulant I don't feel like answering to anyone especially not him, he is in essence the reason for all trouble.

Surprisingly he graces me with a lopsided grin and stretches behind me to grasp the bottle of wine I have stashed out of view. He casually observes it and seems impressed with my selection, then he puts the bottle to his lips and downs like half of it in a couple of gulps. I can't help the shrill giggle I give and it is more out of nervousness than that I actually find this amusing. Thranduil does not shudder from the strong taste like I did, he is obviously well accustomed to it but he does hand the bottle back to me and nods his head in understanding, his proximity to me in this tiny space is unnerving;

"Yes Clara my dear sometimes I need my own company too."

And with that said he saunters out of the room and leaves me slightly stunned and a little light headed. Even in his wounded state he is incredibly sure of himself and there is something in his subtle mannerisms that is alluring and almost captivating and oh dear lord I'm swooning! I do not swoon, I never swoon, I am blaming the elven wine on this one.

I wait for about three minutes before I do a little excited dance around the tiny larder, the relief flooding through me has the calming effect I so desired. After spinning around for a few minutes I lean against the wall and slap my hand to my forehead, breathlessly chuckling; I've got a job and a place of my own, okay I am a glorified Nanny but at least I am safe and I've still got my little rescuer to keep me company. I'm not alone, I can do this, I can live in middle earth and I'll make a much better go at this life than I did the last, this I vow!


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

"Lady Clara?"

A lean and straight elf of an indiscernible age with stern navy eyes and straight light brown hair, stares at me with confusion I guess I was not what he was expecting.

"Hi, you must be Raffyn?" I chirp and step forward offering my hand, which he looks at it and pulls a face, does no one shake hands around here?

"Yes well shall we?" He barely looks at me as he swivels on his polished boots and strides to the door, pausing only to glance back at me with an impatient expression.

I nod once and lift my basket of meager belongings, which are not even my belongings but things I have been given, basically charity. A few plain dresses, undergarments and a thick bundle of plain paper and some charcoal pencils. A gift from my healer friend Calanon, who wishes me to continue drawing. Calanon is with me now and I look at him warily for direction, he smiles encouragingly and helps fasten a dull grey coloured cloak around my shoulders.

"Tis alright dear Clara you will be fine, just do as you are told, stay out of mischief and the King will reward you well."

"Thank you Calanon for everything, I will miss not seeing you every day," I reply and attempt another hand shake but instead he hugs me and I practically choke him in return.

I am so nervous I have no idea what to expect and not the foggiest notion how someone is supposed to behave as a member of the royal court, but I guess I am about to get a very intense tutorial. Raffyn clears his throat and Calanon gives me an amused look as I scurry to the elf's side and allow him to lead me out and away from the only place I have known in this strange new world. It is like parting with a safety blanket, from this point on I will be expected to cope without the aid of elvish medicine and mundane routine, I am terrified!

We walk for an age or at least it feels like it, through twists and turns, deeper and deeper into this incredible cavern structure. The King's halls could not be called a cave because that would give you the wrong impression. They are like something that magically appeared from the rock, like an entire city built into the protection of the natural cave formations of the woods. They are beautiful and more than once I just stop and stare open mouthed and completely captivated by the craftsmanship. The ceilings are glittering with ethereal lights that could have been mistaken as actual stars, flowers, trees and plants grow all around this place, flourishing even in the darkest of spaces, natural waterfalls and streams wind and snake through city bringing life to the secret world beneath the forest. I can hear birds singing an evening chorus overhead and the fading daylight bathing certain parts of the city in its calming glow. It is light and airy but I cannot tell where the breaks in the rock are, everything is just so natural and so perfectly placed to look like it always existed.

There is a mixture of grand stairwells and marble bridges that connect the levels of this fortress together, but in some parts there are scarier, steeper stairs or narrow, long footpaths with sheer drops on either side. Elves seem to pass them oblivious to the dangers but I, at every singly obstacle, have a minor stroke and it usually takes several moments of coaxing on Raffyn's part to encourage me to keep going. I know I now have the ability to overcome these difficult obstacles with ease but there is still a part of my brain that thinks it is clumsy Josie who trips over her own shadow. I must try and overcome this if I am going to survive this place. That tiny annoying voice in the back of my mind reminds me there is a lot more than a fear of falling that I have to try and get over, but I ignore it as I have done for the past several weeks.

Eventually we reach a well-lit pavilion with the most beautiful fountain I have seen, it spouts crystal clear water from waterfalls cascading from the prominent statue. An elven couple or maybe a godlike couple engaged in an enchanting dance, so beautiful and mesmerizing I just stand and gawp. I immediately want to rip out my paper and start sketching this, but Raffyn clears his throat and I return to reality with a bump.

"Welcome to the private chambers of our Royal family Clara," He speaks with deep reverence and lets me take a moment to gain my bearings.

The King's dwelling appears to be a set of interconnected rooms and levels, gardens and pools, that are all teeming with wild flowers, shrubbery and the most exquisite of sculptures and tapestries I have ever laid eyes on. In short my idea of heaven!

"I am going to live here?" I ask my voice barely a whisper

"In a way yes, the members of the royal court have their own quarters within this great living space. Now come follow me I will show you around and introduce you to Oliel, she sees to the affairs of the family's home and keeps the place in order. She will look after you and keep you right I am sure."

With that Raffyn takes off again and I practically run to keep up with him, he enters through another set of passageways and not the front door which I thought would have been the most sensible thing to do. We reach a main corridor with smaller hallways that branch off from it, it is brimming with soft candles and intoxicating scents of blossoms that I don't have a name for. We reach the end of the hallway and step into a large living space, with a roaring fire in a grand fireplace in the center. It has lounge chairs and over-stuffed sofa's scattered about the place and what looks like a dining table off to the side. This room opens out onto a small and quiet expertly designed garden. Again I am speechless as to how all this exists underground but it does and I just want to sit and attempt to capture it all in sketches.

There is a rush of light footsteps and I whirl to the sound, just in time to see the loveliest creature approach me. She wears a dress of the palest lemon and her hair is the richest mahogany loose and long it hangs down her back like molten chocolate, she is slender and petite for an elf but in saying that she has an energetic presence that makes me happy instantly. Her skin is pale and glowing, her features pretty and feline, textbook beautiful and I feel like an utter tramp standing beside her. Her bright almost turquoise eyes glimmer with anticipation and look so wide and wonder filled in her perfect heart shaped face. She smiles the warmest and most genuine smile that I cannot help the silly grin I give in return.

"You must be Clara!" She trills in a feather light and sing song voice, she scurries to my side and throws her arms around me and I freeze at the unexpected display of affection. "I have heard so much about you, oh I am so pleased you decided to come and join us. It will be wonderful to have another female presence around here; what with all this passive aggressive male energy bouncing around it will be lovely to have another elleth bringing serenity to this place."

"Oliel," Raffyn speaks almost like a warning and she skips back and giggles.

"Oh forgive me I am just so happy to see you, I am sometimes a little excitable," she apologizes and gives Raffyn a playful frown.

"Uh hello," I manage and continue to stand a bit awkwardly, "Well I would introduce myself but it seems everyone knows who I am!"

"Of course we do, young master Legolas can barely stop taking about his new friend that he rescued in the forest," Oliel quips and giggles again, I almost chuckle back, her laughter is so infectious.

"Oliel will you please assist Clara to settle in and become accustomed to her new station, I must leave I am afraid his Majesty is holding another meeting which I must assist with." Raffyn turns and bows his head graciously to me, "Farewell my lady and on behalf of the members of this house I bid you a very warm welcome."

"Thanks Raffyn and it has been a pleasure," I reply as Oliel takes my arm and squeezes it encouragingly.

"I shall return in the morning and see how you are faring, until then any questions or concerns Oliel will be more than qualified to answer." Raffyn gives one last nod and leaves the same way we entered, his velveteen robes swishing in the soft breeze. What a very proper character, like one of those Victorian butlers who are just so so and always professional, I doubt he ever cracks a smile.

"Well now mellon nin let us get you some finer clothes and something nice to eat," Oliel speaks cheerily and with linked arms leads me away. I instantly like her and I usually don't like anyone but she is so bright and warm that I just seem to gravitate towards her. I had put the idea of having friends out of my head for so long and just believed I was better off without them, but now I was sort of playing with idea again. Maybe just maybe Oliel and I could be friends and if we were to then I was going to have to learn her name because right now all I want to do is call her 'Ollie.'

xXx

"You know it is very unlike his majesty to allow complete strangers into his private circle, you must have really impressed him Clara," Oliel chatters on, as she has done these past three solid hours. I don't stop her though because she is a hive of information and I just like her, I really do.

"Oh it wasn't the King that invited me here it was the Prince," I answer with a shrug and sup shyly at the clay cup of warm milk that Oliel dutifully made me.

"Really?" She gasps as she picks up her hems and flounces down on the sofa beside me her eyebrows drawn together in thought; "Well that is something indeed."

"Why?" I mumble over the lip of the cup.

Her eyebrows rise up and she sighs; "Thranduil has had some…difficulties…this past decade. He is unfortunately not the young prince we all remember from days gone by, and that injury!" Oliel clutches her heart and a genuine look of anguish crosses her features, "Oh Clara I thought for sure we had lost him for good."

"So the temper and the angry outbursts are a new thing?" I ask politely, truthfully it was on the tip of my tongue to say 'so this grumpy old toad thing is just an act,' but I thought that was bit tactless.

"Well as long as I can remember he has always been, how would you say, wild and opinionated?" she grins to herself, old memories I assume. "He was very passionate about life and his home, a talented warrior and was always laughing and charming young ellith, quite the scoundrel actually!"

I snigger into my cup and Oliel giggles too; "So what I happened, what brought about the sudden change? Parenthood or something?"

"No not exactly," She sighs and turns her head away, "I am sorry Clara it is really none of my business and besides it is unimportant. But I will say having that little elfling around here has been Thranduil's saving grace, he adores that little one. You should know he must think highly of you to trust you with him Clara, for you would be the first since his birth."

I drop my gaze and nod solemnly, feeling rather guilty that I categorised him as a bad father but that is my flaw I judge people too quickly, and that is probably why I am alone. Oliel smiles warmly at me again and clasps her hand over mine;

"I am sorry I didn't mean to lecture you I am just quite protective of my King and his family, most of us are, but you will hear rumors Clara and you must not listen for it is just idle gossip. Thranduil is a good elf, a good prince and if given half the chance he can be a wonderful friend."

"You talk like you know him well?" I say and decide not to ask anymore intruding questions; afterall it is absolutely none of business.

She throws her head back and lets out a peal of infectious laughter; "I know the prince very well, we grew up together he is like an elder brother to me. This means I know all his dark and dirty secrets he knows never to cross me!"

The both of us have a good titter over this and I try vainly to get her to tell me some embarrassing stories but she won't. Oliel informs me that it is their vow to never utter to others what they know about each other, for if they do it will be the end of the world as we know it. The Thranduil that she talks about seems fun and spontaneous a far cry from the silent and moody creature I have become accustomed too. Yet I can't help but wonder over these secrets and gossip filled lies she spoke of, whatever they are I ascertain I shall never know the truth unless it comes from Thranduil himself and I don't think we have that sort of relationship.

Oliel and I chatter into the wee hours of the morning until I am all but swaying on my feet from weariness. I don't like to sleep, especially not now as some kind of elf mutant, for if I sleep I dream and if I dream I remember too much. I was never one to dwell on memories, I am the sort of person who pushes everything to the back of mind and shuts it all away. If I don't have to deal with something I don't, I am a stick my head in the sand kind of person. If I have too much free time these thoughts and memories start popping up in my mind and causing all sorts of unnecessary chaos. So I know when Oliel leaves me to my pleasant private chamber that I will be faced with a night of swirling questions.

I sit on the simple oak bed; it is spacious and far too big for just me, one solitary candle burns in the corner atop a walnut chest. I rub my hands over the sets of new clothes Oliel provided me with, temporary until she can get my measurements to the dressmaker and have me kitted out in more bespoke gear. A simple burgundy dress with gold stitching on the sleeves and hem, fitted and shapely a vast improvement from the dull brown cast off given to me by the healers; but there is also another set of clothes, these clothes are my own the ones I wore when I…died…a grey vest and leggings. Oliel thought them quite strange garments; she had never seen such fabric before and couldn't quite place their origin, of course I feigned complete amnesia over this. Oliel told me she had tried to mend them and get any stubborn stains out, and by stains I assume she meant blood, my blood. She guessed that I might want them so as to try and jog my memory, but truthfully I don't I want to burn them and forget.

I feel the tears streaming down my face and alarm myself when I ascertain the choking sobs are coming from me. With one swift movement I toss the outfit across the room and throw myself on the bed, clawing a woollen blanket to my chest I quietly sob into the sheets and for the first time in weeks I revisit the last memories I have of what was once my reality;

"What am I?" I hear my voice crack as I whisper into nothingness, "Please God what am I?"

…

The rain hammers down in torrents, I can't move, I can't do anything but watch as I make the fatal mistake of turning the wheel too sharply to right, I can see where I drifted onto the opposite lane, the headlamps and the blaring horn of the oncoming lorry driver alerting me to my error. I notice how I rectified the situation only to misjudge the sharpness of the bend; I can tell that my reactions would never have been quick enough to break in time to save me from going through the barrier and over the ledge. I feel the gut wrenching panic and the violent fear of imminent death all over again, I am falling, I am going to die like I should.

I absently wonder would the lorry driver have seen or heard me after he passed, I guess not because it was a tight bend but maybe he did, maybe he jumped out of his cab and called the ambulance. I wonder if by any luck my remains could be identified and my Aunt and Uncle informed I doubt Izzy will come home from Oz to pay her respects but Frey will and Mary will, Ted too. I wonder if they tell my Dad, I wonder if he cried or did he feel anything when Uncle Rob told him his daughter was gone. I almost hope he misses me I almost wish that as he stands at my simple and undistinguishable grave does he regret not knowing me? I imagine he apologises for being a dead beat dad and for never being there, I imagine him feeling my forgiveness and knowing he doesn't have to grieve because life is too short to linger over past mistakes, I was okay I took care of myself he doesn't need to beat himself up I turned out alright, he did a good thing giving me away when he knew he couldn't love me. But I know reality is much different, I know my grave will lie deserted and grow over with moss and weeds; I know I will just be another unfortunate story about a forgotten soul. People will think it will be better for me to be dead than to face the harsh realities of the world alone, they will say It was a tragic accident, a twist in fate and some may even say it was fated for my life was already a bad omen.

Yet there will be no body under the earth because it did not die, I fell but I never hit the rocks or my car combust with the impact. I went from death to life and I cannot think how or if any time would have passed between realities. I realise I have no memories of ever meeting that final end but only of light, nothingness, then a child's voice in the distance. What I once was does not exist it is dead, for in that reality I am long gone. What I am now is unknown for I wasn't reborn or reincarnated, I was vivified in another reality and the confusion that this brings cripples me.

...

"Good morning, Clara the lovely!"

I bolt upright in the bed and drowsily squint at the form of Oliel in my doorway. How is someone that chirpy post elf sleep state?

"Clara the lovely?" I question groggily and yawn, "Is that my new nickname?"

"I like to start the day with positive affirmations," she responds brightly, "The key to happiness is to bring others happiness."

"Well thanks," I chuckle and stagger out of bed, "but I don't feel too lovely this morning."

"Look at you! Did you not sleep at all last night?" She looks genuinely worried and I feel bad for upsetting her.

"No it is just…nightmares I suppose," I mumble and allow her to help me into my new burgundy dress, for there are far too many laces and buttons for me to get my head around at this ungodly hour.

"Oh Clara maybe I should send word for one the healers to come check on you? You know the trauma of the attack might be what is causing the night terrors, I have seen warriors suffer such things but a good sleep tonic and time to let the spirit heal is the best medicine," She confirms with a nod, Oliel is incredibly optimistic another one of her many wonderful personality traits, she is just a good person and I am insanely jealous.

"Yes I know that is probably what is wrong, but don't bother the healers on my account it's just silly dreams I'll be fine!" I nod resolutely as I hastily throw water over my hands and face, from the wash bowl Oliel brought with her.

"Oh it will be no bother at all, Calanon has asked to be kept updated and the King himself wishes to ensure you are well cared for. Don't worry Clara no one is sending you back to the halls of healing we only wish to assist you as best we can," Oliel continues regardless of my pleas to just ignore it. "Besides you need to be fighting fit to keep up with our little bandit, honestly I do not pity you Clara, Legolas is a handful!"

"I know," I laugh and decide to ignore the comment about keeping Calanon informed and how the King must still view me as an invalid. I am not an invalid I am in full working order, almost! So for want of keeping the subject well and truly changed I decide on another course of conversation;

"You know Oliel is a lovely name but it is a little hard for me to say. If we are on the subject of nicknames do you think I could pick one for you?"

Oliel giggles and nods; "Alright then what would you call me if not Oliel?"

"Ollie!" I say with confidence.

"Ollie?" she shrieks with laughter and slaps me playfully on the arm, "You are bold Clara!"

"Sorry it's just I have nearly called you it several times and I don't want you to think I am being rude," I admit, and its true I nearly always want to say Ollie instead of Oliel, but it feels to personal and I don't think we are at bff's stage yet.

"You did once actually," she says with a smirk and links arms with me, "but tis alright I don't mind, Ollie sounds quite fun, I am rather pleased with that nickname, just don't call me it all the time."

"Agreed," I grin, "And I'm sorry by the way I have a habit of just saying what is exactly in my head, sometimes I think I had that part of my brain damaged as a kid, you know the part that stops you form saying stupid stuff out loud and at all the wrong moments."

"You are a funny elleth Clara," Oliel almost snorts with laughter and clutches my arm tighter as we walk towards the communal living space; "I really hope we can become great friends, I do not think I have laughed so much since you arrived."

"Me too!" I say brightly, "but I can't promise I'll always be so light hearted."

"Well we all have bad days mellon nin, sometimes I can be as angry as a hornet!"

I laugh loudly at her as she pulls a grumpy face and I doubt she ever has a bad day, she is so bright and full of life that I know I could not have a better person to distract me from any dark and threatening thoughts. I am suddenly feeling a little lighter and a little more confident, last nights unwanted trip down memory lane feels like a distant dream, but I know I can't keep it that way but for the meantime I will do all in my power to distract myself.

xXx

I sit on the very edge of the elegant and ornate looking chair in what Raffyn informs me is the King's private study. Oropher should like to speak to me and right now I feel like a little girl waiting on an appraisal from her scary headmaster. Yet I know that my first meeting with Oropher would suggest he is now a wicked or angry elf, but at that point I did not know he was a King, now that I do that kind of changes things. I sort of feel I am dealing with some kind of A lister and I should be on my very best behaviour.

The door opens and I nearly jump clean off my chair, Oliel told me to stand when a member of the Royal family enters a room and to curtsy. This was followed by short but very trying 101 of the perfect curtsy, as of yet I am failing miserably but Oliel promises we will work on it in our free time.

Oropher enters and drifts to his own seat behind a grand desk filled with books and parchments, all very official and important looking. I go to curtsy but he shakes his head and gestures for me to sit down. Dammit I was mentally preparing for this moment and now I don't even get to test my curtsy, typical! He settles himself down and leans across the table in a non-threatening but commanding way nonetheless, he smiles warmly and I feel suddenly at ease, whoa he is talented!

"Good morning my dear, how do you fare?" he asks in a pleasant voice.

"Uh…good I'm good fit as a fiddle!" Oooh painful I am embarrassed for myself. He laughs softly and shakes his head, his silvery locks shining perfectly, again I am filled with the desire to reach out and touch his hair. He is beautiful he is almost painful to look at it, I feel like an ugly gremlin before him I am not even worthy enough to breath the same air as this incredible creature.

"You are very different Clara, I still cannot place you and I am usually gifted with art of placing the heritage of elves," he muses and leans back on his chair observing me with a curious look. "You are not silvan or any of the other lesser elves; you are too beautiful and tall to be."

I blush the deepest shade of pink at his compliment and attempt to find my voice; "I…I…um….well I would not say I am those things."

"Oh come now child accept a compliment when it is given to you," he laughs but there is a hint of impatience in his voice that tells me that he does not suffer fools or dithering idiots, oh dear I am going to have a very hard job of impressing him; "Though you have not seen the light of Valinor so I cannot say that you are of the Noldor, I would say you are a Sinda but you do not act like one of my own. Tis very strange and a riddle I should like to know the answer too but it matters little. You are most welcome here Clara and this is your home for as long as you choose for it to be so."

"Thank you, I am really grateful you have no idea," I mutter but remind myself to stop the gushing and remember my manners. The King's face grows suddenly serious and I feel a little uneasy.

"I trust then that I have your loyalty? As a civilian of this realm and a member of my court I expect you to submit to my rule and acknowledge me as your King, can you do this?"

"Of course!" I squeak in a panic, "You have shown me nothing but acceptance and care since I arrived here, I have no way of repaying you but to be indebted to you."

"I do not hold to debts though your sincerity touches me," his voice returns to a softer tone and the tension suddenly leaves me, I realise he was testing me ensuring I had nothing to hide, smart elf! He pauses for a long moment and continues to casually observe me and I start to squirm uncomfortably under his gaze.

"My son has insisted that you are the only one qualified enough to be trusted with Legolas, I am a little less sure but I see how the child responds to you and I will not deny he is much more happier with the presence of an elleth in his life. It seems you have impressed Thranduil in some way and I am in no position to question him, I am only concerned that you have been through a terrible trauma and it is no easy feat working so closely with my family. With that in mind I must insist you continue to receive care from the healers, if nothing else it will ensure you are healthy and able to care for my grandson. Can you do this?"

"Yes your majesty," I say and bow my head, I understand he is only monitoring my mental state because a cracked up she elf caring for your precious grandson and heir is not really what any Grandfather wants. So it is even more imperative that I keep control of these crazy thoughts that keep popping up in my head in the lonely hours, because I really do not want to mess up this chance.

"Then thank you Clara for accepting my son's proposition, know that we are very honored to have you and Legolas in particular is most pleased with your decision," a glint of amusement crosses the King's eyes that makes me smile. "Speaking of whom I shan't keep you any longer for I know he is quite impatient to be reunited with his friend."

"As am I," I say shyly and Oropher gives me a knowing smile.

I know I am welcomed now and as long as I do good by his family I have nothing to fear. He gestures for me to leave and I stand, curtsy yes haha got that one in, and make for the door. As I push through the door it takes all of about three seconds before I register the little person charging across the expanse of hallway towards me.

"Clara!" Legolas shrieks and in less than a minute he and I are engaged in a very overdue cuddle, with me crouched on the floor. I feel tears prick my eyes but I refuse to cry like the big sop that I am, I am just so happy to see this little monster again.

"Ugh I have missed you!" I mutter as he strangles me with his bone crushing hug, but I don't care he can choke me if he wants.

"Me too!" he wails and then pulls back to give me a very stern look, "What took you so long?"

"Me?" I gasp "What do you mean what took me so long? I thought you had run away and left me!"

"Never!" he cries and hangs around my neck in another hug, "Ada says you are going to be my caretaker now and that I must be very good for you and do as I am told! But I said that I am always good for you. Clara does that mean you are going to stay with me forever now?"

I chuckle at his ramblings, his mind is so quick it just jumps from one thought to the next, it is just a privilege to be trusted by this child; "Yes I am staying for as long as you need me."

This statement is welcomed with a loud cheer and another bear hug, this time I haul myself from my crouched position on the floor and hoist Legolas so he is resting on my hip. He helpfully clings to my torso and supports his own weight so he is not a complete dead weight in my arms, the two of us grin excitedly at each and I can see the cogs in his head turning as he imagines up some more fun filled adventures for us. I am relieved and very honoured to be allowed to play such a vital part in his early life, I don't know if in this reality this little boy grows into the hero written about in fictional books, but I do know this much he will grow up to be a wonderful being and he will always be my little hero.

"Do not carry him Clara he is perfectly capable of walking!"

I peer around Legolas' blonde head and give a little guilty smile as I clock the Prince leaning against a pillar a few feet away. I suppose he has been there the whole time and watched the whole exchange, for even though his face is mostly expressionless there is a hint of smile tugging on his lips. Legolas sighs in my arms and clings closer to me, jutting out his chin in defiance of his father.

"It's alright," I interject not wanting to be the sole purpose of an argument, "It's just this once and it is really more of a cuddle!"

Thranduil openly smiles now as he carefully makes his way towards us, he is without his crutch and I can tell he is pushing himself and maybe a little too prematurely, but it's not my place to say. He grips Legolas' chin between his thumb and finger, tilting the boy's head to look at him and they study each for a moment. It's like they are conversing in some strange way, I can't quite describe it but for a split second I almost sense the bond they share, and it's amazing so loving and pure.

"Uuma ma' ten' rashwe Legolas, ta tuluva a' lle," Thranduil utters the phrase quietly, like a reminder or a warning, but it is playful and he taps his son on the nose.

Legolas pouts for a moment but it is short lived and he is suddenly squirming out of my arms and yelling for his Grandpa who has emerged from his study. The elder elf makes a show of surprise at seeing his grandson and kneels down to listen intently to whatever spiel the youngster has thought up now. I think this little man gets far too much attention, but I haven't seen any other elfling's since I got here so there must be no cousins or playmates around. I think that shall be my challenge to find Legolas children his own age to play with he needs that sort of companionship. Basically he needs to not be like his Father or for that matter me! I do not want him to be a social recluse!

With the absence of Legolas in my grasp I am acutely aware of how close Thranduil stands to me, I half expected him to leave but he doesn't he just stands there intent on making me feel uncomfortable and more than a little self-conscious. I nervously divert my gaze and play with the hem of my new dress, pretending to be very interested the gold stitching.

"Lle maa quell," He says to me with what I decipher as sarcasm, and when I glare at him accusingly he chuckles.

"What did you call me?" I inquire and try to remain composed about it, after all the King is about ten feet away.

"Hmm," he muses and looks me over, "I could really say anything I want and you will not have the slightest idea what I am talking about."

"In some civilized cultures that is considered rude!" I snipe, he really does irritate me.

"Like the culture you were brought up in?"

"Yes precisely!"

"This is not helping your memory loss plea Clara."

For a few moments I glare indignantly at him; how? How does he manage that every single time? And why do I keep giving him ammunition? Good grief Clara think before you speak! He shakes his head and continues to laugh softly at my expense;

"Think faster my friend, or the healers will catch you out!" He whispers with a wink.

"Huh?" Is my best response, I am now not so sure if he is friend of foe. I thought for sure he wanted to unearth my secrets but now he is giving me advice, really what is his game! I don't get it!

He rolls his eyes in the direction of his father and makes a quietening motion and I nod, for he is right Oropher will only want me to divulge what memories I have and I can't do that. I really can't, I can't even deal with them myself. Oropher glances towards his son and gives him a worried glance, the kind of look you get when someone is constantly questioning your mental state and I realize Thranduil may have similar issues as myself;

"It is alright Adar no need to panic, I am just having a very ordinary conversation nothing sinister!"

The sarcasm dripping in his voice makes Oropher sigh in exasperation and I can tell almost instantly that this father son relationship is not exactly all surgery. Thranduil grins sweetly at his father and Oropher tuts and returns his attention back to his Grandson.

"Nothing sinister?" I squeak, suddenly wanting to know exactly what was meant by that.

"Oh Adar seems to think I am always about a minute away from snapping something in two," he replies breezily and I gulp reflexively; "Do not worry I feel quite calm today."

"Good to know," I say in a rather shrill voice that makes him laugh loudly.

"You look good," he compliments slightly out of the blue and I narrow my eyes at him in confusion. "That is what I said to you, 'Lle maa quel.' It means you look good, freedom suits you."

"Oh sorry," I blush furiously at my social ineptitude but I really can't keep up with this Elvish/English conversation; "Thanks yea it feels good to be out of the healing halls, so 'la ma kell.' to you too!"

"Not quite Clara but good attempt," Thranduil chuckles and smiles at me almost fondly, "But thank you all the same."

I realize I am smiling goofily at him and quickly I shake my head and clear my throat trying to diffuse my awkwardness, but he seems unperturbed or just plain uninterested. I think, though I can't be sure that Thranduil and I have developed common ground. Interesting turn of events maybe Ollie is right about him, dammit Oliel Oliel Oliel ugh too much elvish!

Thranduil is about to say something to me but stops and his head snaps sideways and he frowns at seemingly nothing down the hallway. I curiously follow his gaze and soon become aware of approaching footsteps;

"Adar is that Ithril?" He asks with a hint of annoyance.

"Yes," is the King's simple reply but I catch Legolas' reaction, his face falls and he looks like he is about to protest vehemently to the arrival of this Ithril person.

"I thought we decided that we were to cancel Legolas' tutoring for today, I had wanted to spend the morning with him," Was Thranduils hissed reply through gritted teeth. I feel like I should slink into a corner and not be privy to this family domestic.

"Thranduil you need to rest and we agreed normality is what is best right now, besides Legolas loves to see Ithril," Oropher replies in a devil may care tone, there is no arguing with him that is unless you are Legolas.

"No I don't!" he interjects and stamps his little foot in frustration, I fully understand I never really liked school or teachers much either as a child. "I want to stay with Clara! Ada you promised me!"

Oh crap this is going to end in tears and the footsteps are getting closer and Thranduil looks like he is going to snap something in two now and whoa I am standing way to close to him. I shuffle a few steps back in case he decides to hulk out on us and I feign disinterest in the conversation.

"Dina Legolas," Thranduil speaks calmly to his son and gestures for him to come stand by him whilst Oropher and he share a frosty look, obviously this argument will be continued later. Legolas does as he is told but makes no secret of his sulking.

The disapproving looks in the room almost completely vanish as soon as Ithril enters, but I do notice subtle changes. Thranduil subconsciously twists the injured side of himself away from view, obscuring his face with the high collar of his long green robe. He clearly does not wish to be here and Legolas is no different as he attempts to make himself disappear in the folds of his Father's robe. Oropher is the only one who remains unperturbed and acts very much like nothing out of the ordinary has happened.

Ithril is stunning; she would make a Victoria secret model green with envy with her flawless everything. She was easily as tall as Thranduil with perfectly curled honey coloured locks that fell to way beyond her waist. I have no words to describe her other than if Aphrodite had a younger better looking sister, Ithril would be her. The only problem though is that this she elf knows how sublimely perfect she is, she walks like royalty and is the type that expects complete adoration. I expect that although she is physically the definition of beauty her spirit is not, a sort of Regina George of the elf world. Oh meow Clara aren't you jealous, jeez she hasn't even opened her mouth yet and I hate her, I need to stop this judgmental thing it is not at all becoming of an elf!

She stops and seamlessly flows into the perfect curtsy, I am of course taking mental notes, but there is no way in hell that I will ever be able to do that. She straightens up and blinks in surprise at Thranduil;

"Heru en amin"," she bows again, "Oio naa elealla alasse."

"Mae govannen Ithril," Is Thranduil's gracious reply but he makes no more attempt to hold conversation with the elleth.

There is a forced and formal elvish dialogue between Ithril and Legolas, and Legolas tries vainly to argue his way out of his lessons today. I watch sadly as Thranduil kneels down to his son and is forced to command him to go with Ithril, who I have assumed as his teacher. Though I cannot understand what is being said I know the prince is unhappy about this and Legolas is downright devastated, but he is a good kid and goes with his teacher without much more fuss. As he leaves he turns to wave at me with a defeated look, I wave cheerily back and mouth to him that I will see him later, this at least brings a small smile to his despairing countenance. I do however note that Ithril is yet to acknowledge me, nil points for the beauty queen, I am disliking her even more at this rate she could be my nemesis!

Without another word the room empties leaving only Thranduil and I, though I know he is in no mood for conversation now. All the happiness seems to be sucked out of him and he seems to be having some kind of internal argument with himself. I stand quietly off to the side, mostly because I am not sure how to get back to my quarters and keep all my fingers and toes crossed that Oliel or Raffyn will appear any moment and give me my excuse to leave, alas they do not. Eventually after the longest awkward silence known to man I speak, because well I am really tired of standing;

"Um…your highness…could you um point me back in the direction of my new chambers please?"

Thranduil startles and looks me up and down like he had completely forgotten I was even there. I watch as he tries to rearrange his features so that they are less threatening and more hospitable, he even attempts a half smile;

"Yes of course I can show you," he murmurs softly, "but you are going to have to let me lean on your arm, I am afraid I cannot get very far without my crutch."

"Oh I didn't mean for you to take me even if you just sho-" I start but he cuts in.

"No you will never remember! This place is a rabbit warren, I do not mind it seems I have nothing else better to do this morning anyway," he mutters and limps toward me.

I offer out my arm and he takes it gratefully, he leans into me but not too much he is trying very hard to make himself walk normally. I can still feel thick bandages through his sleeves and I try my best not to be too rough with my movements. He keeps his eyes fixed straight ahead and does not speak much, only to point out landmarks that will help me find my way around. I deliberately stop every now and again just to pretend that I am taking mental notes of my whereabouts, in truth I am giving him a rest from walking for it is draining him I can see him visibly wilt. Once we reach the familiar hallway that leads to my shared living chambers, I stop and bite my lip considering the boldness of my next question, do ordinary elves get to invite royalty into their lounge, because technically it is his house, castle, cave, thing?;

"Would you like a drink?" I ask as we reach the archway, "and maybe a rest?"

He sighs and nods; "I really do not think I have a choice in the matter."

"Well good because I make a really good cup 'o water," I add with a smirk.

Thranduil gives a gentle laugh and I sigh with relief, thank heavens for that! I was very concerned for a moment that I had nearly killed the prince by making him walk this far. Thankfully he is still able to crack a smile so all is well. Though he has significantly paled and looks as though he is about to collapse at any minute. I dutifully help him to a seat and go fetch water, from the well in the garden, that I am quite proud I know how to operate. If I learnt anything from my time is the healing halls it was how to draw water, honestly I make this primitive living thing look easy! Just call me Clara the bear Grylls! Now for the hard part, awkwardly trying to hold conversation with an elf prince, yes I did not really think this through did I?

Though I need not worry for as I reach the beautiful archways that enter into the lounge I practically leap several feel in the air when I hear a delighted shriek. I clutch the pitcher of water to myself and attempt to bring my heart down a notch, once my mind kicks in I decipher the excited babbling as Oliel, that woman is going to kill me with sheer joy. I timidly amble into the room and watch in amusement as Oliel practically vibrates with happiness at the sight of her friend, Thranduil pulls her into a loose embrace and the two mutter elvish endearments to one another. Thranduil nods his head towards me and Oliel gives him a kindly look;

"Did I not tell you he is a good elf?" Oliel smiles as she hurries towards me and takes the pitcher from me, then guides me into the huddle, "Bringing you back to your quarters and others call him thoughtless."

"Well I had reason to come," Thranduil replies with a tired voice, "Oliel I have not seen you since I returned! This is despicable you are not acting like a friend at all!"

"Thranduil your Adar said no visitors, you know what he is like, I cannot overstep my mark I have a good thing here," Oliel scolds.

"Do not listen to him, I never do!" He scoffs and gratefully takes the cup that she has just poured.

"Yes I know that is what gets you into these messes," She frowns and waggles her finger at him, hinting at his injuries.

I quietly sit down on the edge of a low table and attempt to look engaging but I am a little bit gutted, I thought the prince had escorted me back here out of the goodness of his heart! His actual agenda was to see his friend, typical, yet I suppose I should not be annoyed I mean why on earth would he want to keep company with me? I let out a soft laugh and shake my head at my own silly self centered attitude and then realise I did so out loud and both elves are looking curiously at me, oops!

"Sorry I got distracted, don't mind me carry on," I quickly say and then shake my head, "In fact I should probably leave and let you guys catch up."

I stand up and Oliel jumps in front of me with outstretched hands; "No do not be silly stay, I want you to stay."

"No it's fine I have to...go...do something productive, you know earn my keep," I say breezily and pretend like I am actually not annoyed in the slightest because truthfully I have no right to be. I turn to Thranduil and curtsy; "Thank you your highness for being so giving of your time."

"It was nothing," he replies but I can tell he is a little baffled by me.

I do not wait another minute I quickly stride across to the table, lift my papers and a charcoal pencil that I left there from the night before, and exit the room intent on finding that beautiful fountain from the day before. I have a few hours before Legolas will be requiring my presence and I so miss the sensation of getting lost in my art. I need the distraction besides I do not want to be a third wheel to the BFF reunion, though part of me wishes I had that, that I could join in and be part of their friendship but I can't because it's like wedging myself into a life that I was not meant to exist in, like I upset the balance of things. No it is a much better idea if I keep a distance at least for awhile, Thranduil is royalty and I need to learn what that means. I need to learn a lot of things so much that my head is swimming at the prospect, and this is why I need to draw, I need to draw to keep myself from cracking up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ***So yes I need to make an apology and explain. The reason I do not include the elvish translation in the body of the story is because this is Clara hearing something she does not understand, so in a mean way I don't want the reader to understand either :P But my intentions were to put the translations at the end of the text as an A/N, but I forgots :( my bad I am an eejit! Anyway here are the translations from the last chapter (and hopefully I will remember not to do that again) lol sooowwwiiieee
> 
> ionneg? - My son? (Oropher to Thranduil)
> 
> A Ada - Hi Papa (Legolas to Thranduil when he mimics Clara)
> 
> Na vedui Legolas! Cormanin lindua ele lle At Last Legolas! - My heart it sings/is glad to see thee again (Thranduil to Legolas)
> 
> *Note none of the elvish is perfect I do not pretend to be good at sindarin so its all rough guesses and help from other sources*
> 
> And the elvish in this chapter is as follows;
> 
> Mellon nin - My friend
> 
> Uuma ma' ten' rashwe Legolas, ta tuluva a' lle - Do not look for trouble Legolas, it will find you.
> 
> Lle maa quell - You look good
> 
> Dina Legolas - Quiet/be silent Legolas
> 
> Heru en amin ... Oio naa elealla alasse - My Lord! ... Ever is thy sight a joy!
> 
> Mae govannen Ithril - Well met Ithril (common elvish greeting)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and please let me know how I am doing it is great hearing from everyone! :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please be warned I do not stick entirely to elvish tradition in this story, I hope that doesn't offend anyone but it is a completely fictitious take on elves and greenwood and purely entertainment value. Anyway thank you so much for reading and please let me know what you think because I worry when I write and publish stuff, I literally get stage fright only it's like update fright hehe :p

Chapter six

The sound of the fountain is comforting and I get lost in the twinkling colours that shimmer through the water when the light hits it. I scrape the charcoal pencil across the paper and roughly draw the outline of the beautiful figures that are drawn together in a passionate dance. Thought the sculptured fountain is static, the figurines hold an energy about them that is unavoidable, I love it for it is like the element of passion is life and in love. This is my new favourite piece of art, and I let my mind wander, conjuring up a history and story for this dancing couple. I hear someone approach but I am not that interested and with any luck they will just pass me by.

"Did I offend you Clara?"

He says quietly as he sits down on the ledge of the well, a few feet from where I have settled myself crossed legged with my scraps of paper. I glance up and feel my eyes widen I was not expecting him and he looks genuinely concerned, why on earth would he worry himself. I shake my head furiously and try and find my voice;

"No of course not, I…well I just wanted to come out here and get some fresh air."

"You left in such a hurry, Oliel is worried that we frightened you off," Thranduil says softly with that lopsided smile, that would be very sweet if it were not for the deep and vein like scars that prevent him from actually forming a proper smile.

"No absolutely not, you both looked like you needed the privacy and I did not want to intrude," I ramble and Thranduil raises his hands and shakes his head.

"No Clara, no it is nothing like that, please do not get that impression that is the last thing I need being spread about the Kingdom," he pleads and I frown at him. "Oliel is an honourable elleth from a high ranking family, if she got caught up in some misguided rumour I could not live with myself."

"Um," I pause and feel rather awkward, "I was not implying that I thought you two were…you know…that close. I just meant I am a stranger and it would have been rude of me to stay."

"Oh!" He stands up straighter and opens and closes his mouth like he is grasping for the words, or looking for a way to take back what he said.

I let out a soft laugh at his embarrassment and attempt to rectify the situation for him;

"You know even if that was the case, and I know it's not so don't worry, it is actually none of mine or anyone else's business."

"Correction Clara it is the business of every elven Kingdom this side of Arda, I am a prince there are different rules for me and I have already shamed this family once," he mutters and a flash of anger crosses his features.

"Like I said it is none of my business," I smile at him and return to my rough sketching, trying to hide the intrigue his comment has stirred in me.

"You really know nothing about me do you?"

I sigh and drop the pencil, before looking up at him with an impatient look, seriously what is with the inquisition? Why is he intent on following me around? Am I his new play thing; the shiny new toy that is keeping him entertained! I don't know much about royalty and nobility but I do know this much; people like him don't talk to nobodies like me, unless they're bored or feeling charitable.

"No your highness I don't, I really don't so please stop fretting!" Is my honest reply, for if I have learnt anything in the past few months it is that reality is much different from the garnished and idealist world of fiction.

He sits back down on the ledge and leans toward me, his eyes probing, and the one clear eye so intense and so deep that I momentarily lose my train of thought.

"Thank you," he finally murmurs and I cock my head to the side in confusion, he smiles and clarifies his statement, "For not caring, most elves in your position would be clambering to know more about my past indiscretions, so thank you for not being the stereotype."

"Don't thank me, thank the amnesia." I snort and tap my head.

"You know I still do not believe you, I know you have memories and I am more or less certain you are running from something," Thranduil comments and then smiles; "but it is none of my business, and if I had the chance to start afresh and not have certain memories I would take it, you are lucky Clara I envy you."

"Thanks I think," I mutter and shake my head in confusion, "but you are not telling me you would want to have a life without that amazing little boy of yours?"

"He is the only reason I do not runaway," he answers so truthfully that it blows me away, I cannot fathom why he wants to confide in me but I suppose it is refreshing to speak with someone who is a neutral party.

"What happened to her?" I ask quietly and dread the answer.

"To who? His Mother?" Thranduil asks in an almost cautious tone, he sighs and looks away; "I do not know what became of her, and I doubt I ever will."

Oh well that was a surprise I was expecting a gut wrenching tale of a terrible separation, I had assumed Legolas' mother must have died possibly in child birth or maybe in something much more sinister but Thranduil makes it out like she left. I do not understand, aren't elves supposed to be like super morally uptight? My silent wonderings obviously alert the prince to my confusion and he actually laughs a sad laugh but a laugh nonetheless, I think he gets a kick out of my ignorance.

"The marriage was dissolved; she gave over full custody of Legolas to me and asked not to be involved in his life. He does not know her; he was barely more than a few months old at the time."

"So you're divorced, but I thought that was something elves don't do?" I ask the question innocently and instantly regret it; can I not just learn to keep my mouth shut?

"What kind of idealistic fantasy do you live in?" He snipe's and stands up in one fluid movement, his face suddenly appearing blank and indifferent. Hmm, I know that look; I am guilty of that look, which is the exact kind of expression I give when I attempt to convince people I am not cut up about their comments.

"Some people would say I am living in a fantasy world, literally," I grumble and begin to shuffle my sketches together. See this is why I left, this is why I thought it was wise to keep a distance, because I ask the stupid questions that everyone knows not to ask! "Look I did not mean to offend you, it is none of my business and you know what? In my experience love does not last and hey if the relationship was on the rocks it is better to get out before you only hurt yourself further."

"Love?" He raises an eyebrow and looks done at me with a patronising expression, "Clara our marriage was an arrangement, for political gains, something we both consented to, love had nothing to do with it. Unfortunately it took its toll on us both, and I could not bear to see Legolas suffer because of it, so she got what she wanted; she was released from her prison sentence. "

I shake my head angrily for I know this story all too well, and it is something I affiliate with. I automatically feel more protective over Legolas, and maybe even a little envious. His father stayed, his father held to his responsibilities and that is something to be applauded. Still it is a sad tale and I am sure it was upsetting for everyone involved, so I ask no more questions, all Thranduil needs to know is that I do not judge him for it;

"Well then Legolas is lucky to have such a father as yourself," I add softly, "I wish I could have said the same thing about mine."

I clutch my papers to my chest and go to stand, my intentions are to leave out of respectfulness but Thranduil is suddenly all questions again;

"How do you mean?" He steps forward obviously intent on following me, even if I move.

"Daddy issues," I mutter and attempt to side step him but he blocks me. "What do you want?"

"I told you something very personal Clara, I did not have to but I did, I think in some strange way I trust you. Now why don't you trust me? is that not what friendships are built on?"

I glare at him my jaw clenching and unclenching as I work to control my temper. So he thinks if he drops in a few seedy details of his personal life he'll get the dirt on mine? Oh he is good, very intelligent, for a moment there I thought we were actually having an emotional conversation in which I got a glimpse of a vulnerable side of the Prince. In reality he is just downright curious as to who I am, he knows I am different and wants to suss it out for himself. I remind myself he has every right to be cautious of me, he has let me into his son's life and if the shoe was on the other foot, I'd be wanting full background checks on my kid's nanny too.

"You're letting your guard slip Clara," he teases and I feel my features grow ever more infuriated; "Now I know for certain the amnesia is just a cover!"

"Great well let's just drop the pretence," I hiss and let it all spill out in one angry onslaught, "Yes I have memories and they are all glaringly awful reminders of a life half lived. I will not bore you with the details because you wouldn't believe them, you couldn't, I can barely understand. Now please don't ask the questions if you are not prepared for the answers!"

This seems to throw him, I doubt he expected such an outburst, I doubt he ever has to deal with this sort of over emotive behaviour, but he did have to go and attempt to play a game with me. I don't play games and I certainly don't want to play mind games with an elf prince notorious for being a spoiled jerk!

"I am sorry," he eventually murmurs and looks concerned for me, it could be genuine but I am unsure now; "My curiosity has caused you pain that was not my intention."

"Oh please," I snap and level him with a disbelieving scowl, "You have been after this since you met me! You have wanted to prove me a liar for whatever reason, I guess just to highlight your intelligence and feed your ego, nothing ever gets past Thranduil he is too cunning for that! Well there you have it, I died or at least I thought I had, but then I ended up here with no actual memory of how that happened would you like anymore gory details?"

"You died?" He gasps and pales a little; he literally looks devastated for me his face contorted into some kind of empathy that I consider a rouse.

I then realise that I had not meant to utter the words "I died," out loud, in fact I never actually intended on saying anymore but I did, I guess this is what happens when you bury your head in the sand, eventually you can't keep pretending anymore. He steps forward a little and holds out his hand as if he wants to touch me in a comforting way, but he thinks better of it and pulls back. He frowns and searches for words that are not there, because there are none, I have none so how could he possibly have anything better to say.

"I told you not to ask!" I say with a cold voice but I can feel the tears swell in my eyes, and I quickly divert my gaze. "I have to go, I have work to do."

With that I leave and wonder off back to Oliel, whom I am supposed to shadow so I can learn my bearings. I mentally begin tucking all the nasty thoughts back into the crevices of my mind trying hard not to think about my outburst. I could kick myself, Thranduil is a Prince, I could be severely punished for speaking to him like that. If he so chooses he could have me removed from this very realm, I need to remember it is by his compassion that I am still here and have somewhere to lay my head. Yet he gets into my head and under my skin so easily, and the scary part is I think I like it. I think part of me wants him to figure it out, for at least then someone would know and I would not feel so alone.

xXx

The pavilion is empty for it is late and the servants are gone. I have gathered that it will be only Oliel, Raffyn and I living within these quarters, the rest of the servants and guards work in shifts and have separate homes to go to. The King supposedly feels that simplicity is best and the less inference he can have in his private affairs the better. I would agree with him, I understand he probably feels very protective over his son and grandson. I have learnt from Oliel that although divorce can happen with elves it is still considered a tragedy, and something that is hush hushed within more ordinary elven families.

Unfortunately Thranduil was a prince and the ex-wife was some sort of Lady from another Kingdom, Oliel was sketchy with the details and I didn't push much for answers, I just wanted to know if what Thranduil had told me was the truth and he was not just manipulating me into divulging my own history. Regrettable he had been very honest with me and maybe even quite guarded about his true feelings; I gathered there was more to the story than Oliel was willing to tell and it was not my place to demand answers.

I have kept my distance from Thranduil since that day, almost a week ago and he has done the same. The more I go over the conversation in my mind the more I realise he never actually made me divulge anything about myself. He had just asked me about my relationship with my father, it was me that cracked up and vented my frustrations. I just count myself lucky that he did not feel offended in some way and threw me out on the street for being so disrespectful. I guess I probably have Legolas to thank for that.

I am being gently eased into my new role as Legolas' caretaker, mostly because I am overwhelmed with so much other information. Yet we spend afternoons together and so far we have simply played or went for walks, where he teaches me my way around his grand home. Tonight though I put him to bed and told him stories, apparently this was because his father was required to attend the healers for some follow up treatment. On any other occasion Thranduil would either himself come to retrieve his son from me, or he would send someone to collect Legolas for him. These hours spent with the child are, as usual, my most enjoyable time of day and I am growing more confident with him. I know it will take some time for Legolas to register that I am not just his friend, but also his nanny, but so far it has been without too much difficulty. He still struggles to take me seriously when I scold him, but then again even I can't take myself seriously! I sound more like an enraged mouse than a stern dictator, besides he knows all he has to do is bat his perfect little eyelashes at me and I'm a goner.

I smile absently to myself as I conjure up pictures of him in my mind's eye; how he gets unreasonable when he is tired, how he talks relentlessly without taking a breath or pausing to see if anyone is following, and how his little laugh lightens the mood of a room instantly. He captures the attention of everyone in this place without even speaking, his very presence is delightful and he is so fascinated in everyone and everything he meets. I can barely keep him entertained his curiosity is so insatiable, but he keeps me busy and seeing the world through his childlike eyes is so much more enchanting than the sombre seriousness of adulthood.

I turn my attention to my sketches on my lap; I sit crossed legged against a pillar, enjoying the quietness of night. This is a good time to draw; there is no-one around and nothing to disturb me. The lanterns overhead cast an almost starlight like light over the rock gardens of this beautiful place, and the tranquillity helps clear my cluttered mind. I do love it here even if I don't really know how or why I exist. Perhaps it is my heaven, perhaps there is something out there besides complete nothingness and whoever they are they took pity on me, and gave me another chance, I doubt I'll ever figure that one out!

"Hello?"

The voice startles me and I feel my chest constrict, as I slowly lean around the pillar and make out the tall form of the Prince standing in our lounge. I could pretend I am not here, I could just sit here and ignore him but he spoke in English so I assume he knows I am here. With a sigh I begrudgingly answer him

"Can I help you your highness?"

I leave my sketches down and rise to my feet, curtsying in his presence, I am determined to remain professional and composed;

"If you are looking for Oliel she is away for the night, she is visiting her Mother and will be back in the morning, I can pass a message on if you wish?"

"No actually I was looking for you," he says with a careful tone as he watches me warily.

Of course he is, who else would he be looking for in the dead of night when no-one else is around? I mean when else do you have awkward conversations? Dammit I should have stayed behind the pillar that was the safer option! I remain still and silent expecting him to make his opinion known.

"I bring a gift from one of the healers," Thranduil mutters as he drops his gaze and places a bundle on a couch. He waits for a few a moments but I don't speak and neither does he, awkwardly he glances upwards and sighs, "Well that was all."

"What is it?" Dammit I thought I said no asking questions, there is no talking to my mouth it literally has a will of its own.

"I think Calanon said it was paint," Thranduil replies his countenance suddenly brightening a little, "Do you paint?"

"Yes I do, it used to be my thing from before," I answer after I explicitly warned myself that I was to not say another word, and let the nice elf prince go on his merry way.

"Your thing? I do not understand what does that mean?" He asks and steps forward curiously, I know if I an answer him this will turn into a conversation about me, and I don't want that. Yet part of me just longs for the company, so against better judgement I start talking, foolish girl!

"Y'know like…I don't know how you would explain it…like my profession, I was an artist."

"Fascinating I have never met an elf whose profession was art, or at least none that I am aware of. They tend to live in more enlightened cultures; the woodland is too feral for their fairer hearts."

"Was that a back handed insult, did you just call me a coward?" I accuse out of the blue and watch in amusement as Thranduil freaks out over the insinuation. Ah elves they are so obsessed with not being offensive and always being ever so polite, it is actually quite easy to wind them up.

"No, no absolutely not!" he cries, his expression panic stricken; "No I merely meant they are gentle souls who are not often drawn to the wildness of the woods."

"Relax I knew what you meant," I grin and I saunter over to the chair to pick up my present, "but just so you know I love the woods, being among the trees was the only time I felt at peace in my old life, and for the most part it was where I gleaned all my inspiration from."

"Have you been outside the caves yet? Have you seen Greenwood?" His voice is suddenly excitable and his eyes have lit up, obviously he is not too concerned with the fact that I was just winding him up before.

"No, not yet," I admit guiltily.

"Then you must allow me to escort you through the wood, oh Clara you would love it," he almost gushes and I laugh at his enthusiasm! I don't think I have ever seen him this happy about anything before.

"Yes because that would be entirely appropriate!" I scoff and he tilts his head with a perplexed look on his face, it is quite cute, he looks like his son when he does that, like some kind of baffled puppy dog. "Your highness, I am nought but a lowly nurse maid and you are a prince of elves, do you really think this is an appropriate friendship for you?"

"I can pick and choose my friend as I wish," he snorts indignantly; "besides you are not a lowly elf maid, you are a lady of my Adar's court and with that honour come certain privileges."

"Like what exactly?" I smirk and raise an eyebrow; I swear sometimes he makes the rules as he goes along. I think he just likes to hear himself talk!

"Elevated status, preferential treatment, friendships with certain princes," he gives me a meaningful look and I actually snort with laughter.

"Does Gil-galad have a son I am not aware of?" I snigger at the scowl he gives me.

"No he does not and besides I am much better company," he sniffs and haughtily raises his chin.

"I'll take your word for it my lord," I reply with a bob of my head, "but forgive me for asking, but why does a prince want to keep company with me?"

"For you are a curious creature and you make me laugh," is his honest and deadpan reply.

"Well I am glad I entertain you," I mutter and cross my arms, "You like me because I am strange."

"Are you always so easily offended?"

"No! Are you always so blunt and tactless?"

"Not always."

Thranduil plonks himself down on the couch and throws his legs up casually; I perch timidly on the edge of said couch and watch him warily. He does appear genuine and I don't think he intends on going anywhere until I accept his request. He watches me carefully and keeps his expression smooth and unreadable as he speaks;

"I feel a certain affinity to you Clara, yet I have not the slightest idea why? I would rationalise that it is because we have both suffered certain tragedies and can relate in some way to each other, but I do not feel that is the complete truth. I believe it is something much more innocent than that, I am of the opinion that this friendship was fated. What do you feel?"

"Oh hey let's not get into feelings, I hardly know you well enough for that" I mumble and let my hair fall over my face, if just to disguise my heated cheeks, he is doing that staring thing again, that alluring persona that makes me want to spill my guts but I must resist!

"Well then give me a chance, get to know me and then form your opinions?" He asks very sincerely and I feel my blush grow ever more scarlet. "You need friends Clara; the world is a dark place without them, trust me I know."

"Yea you don't have to tell me twice," I murmur sadly and give a half smirk but I feel his weighted stare bore into me.

"You hide pain with laughter and wit, I see this yet you do not trust me enough to confide in me. Even after I confide in you, I know you believe I was manipulating you, but I swear that was not my intent. It is like I said I am curious about you, you are different it is refreshing."

"I am just used to people manipulating me," I answer him reluctantly, "You couldn't possibly wrap your head around my truth, and I don't expect you too, I am not ready to deal with it can you understand that?"

"More than you know," he replies solemnly and then smiles that sweet half smile; "But until then will you let me help you?"

"What makes you think I need help?" I question and he smirks, I don't think I like that look.

"Clara you are the only elf I have met that does not know how to act like an elf!" His tone is very matter of fact and I feel my eyes widen. "I do not know whether you just hit your head very hard, or you actually have no memories of being an elf? Either way I do not need to know, but honestly it is something we need to work on because no child of mine is going to pick up your absurd habits."

"I resent that!" I snipe and he laughs.

"Do you know what he called Ithril to her face this morning?" he asks calmly and I bite my lip and shake my head; "He called her a, 'Gobdaw,' now I have no idea what that means but it sounds like an insult."

Shitshitshitshitshit I am gonna kill him! I am gonna throttle that boy! What part of 'Legolas just pretend you didn't hear that,' did he not understand? I face palm myself and I am pretty sure I am a delightful shade of crimson;

"Yea it's an insult but in my defence I didn't think Legolas heard me say it," I decided to be honest because their elves not stupid.

"Clara!" he clasps his hand to his forehead in a dramatic gesture; "He hears everything, he sees everything, I swear in Eru's name that son of mine can tell my very thoughts. He mimics everything so please mind your tongue, I mean it! He once overheard me calling Lord Elrond an incredibly dull elf who is so full of woe, needless to say the next time my darling son was in Elrond's presence he took it upon himself to relay this too him."

"But he is a bit dull?" I add with a meaningful look.

"Yes and I am sure Ithril Is a Gobdaw, but please do not encourage him! These are habits he cannot learn, particular your strange dialect, I shall have every noble elf in Arda questioning my ability to parent my son," he spluttered and then paused for a thoughtful moment and shrugged, "more than they already are."

"Please," I howl with laughter into my hands and refuse to look at him; "Please Thranduil do not ever say 'Gobdaw,' in my presence again I cannot cope! You have no idea it is too wrong I am upsetting the balance of things."

"Is it that bad? What did I say?" he cries in alarm and glares disapprovingly at me, "Clara what did you teach my son? I told Ithril it must be some kind of bird."

"Stop just stop you are slaying me," I clutch my side and try to regain my composure, but every time I try to look at him I kink up into another fit of giggles. The Irish insult sounds too perfect and strange in his melodic speech.

Eventually he gives up trying to understand me and just starts laughing at me instead. We carry on like this for a little while until I literally cannot laugh anymore. We converse for a bit, mostly about Legolas and how incredible he is. Thranduil openly gushes about his son and the pride he has for the child literally radiates from him. There is no doubt about it this elf is totally and unconditionally in love with his little boy, it is lovely to witness and I feel incredibly privileged for Thranduil to share this side of himself with me. It is crazy but I feel completely at ease talking with him, it comes naturally for us and that excites me. Although warning bells are ringing like crazy in my ears, I can't help it I want to know him. I actively choose to ignore my rational mind when it tells me he is a prince, who is slightly unhinged by his own admittance and still recovering from a terrible war wound. Thranduil is unpredictable, dangerous and manipulative, but he is also very charming, sweet and giving of himself. Basically I think he is a sociopath but then again, I am dead girl living in a fictional world, I think I win the crazy contest!

I forget the time or even the place until Thranduil decides he should leave before his Adar comes looking for him. It is only then I realise it must be past midnight, because everything is in quietness and most of the lanterns have fizzled out. I blush and apologise for delaying him, after all he only came to drop off a gift. He just laughs off my apology and stands to leave, I already I feel slightly saddened, I like him. Aw hell I promised myself I would not do this, I would keep my distance, but it seems we are indeed fated to collide with each other. Well I may as well ride this wave it's not like I can do anything else, besides he is right I need friends.

"Do you need help walking back?" I ask innocently noting he has no crutch and is still limping a little.

"No!" He replies breezily and a look of a steely determination crosses his features which makes me chuckle, the sound makes him frown; "Is something funny?"

"You are so bloody determined to do your own thing; I bet that stubborn streak gets you into trouble?" I snigger and he smirks and shakes his fair head.

"I don't see it that way, but the healers would probably agree with you," he winks at me and pauses for a moment in the doorway of the exit. "Thank you for tonight, I told you that you would enjoy my company."

I snort and roll my eyes, he is quite the charmer but a little full of himself. Still Oliel was right there is something endearing about him and I shall attempt to not be too judgmental. He walks away and leaves me to my thoughts, and I cannot help the goofy grin I have plastered over my face. I find myself sniggering quietly to myself at memories of our conversation, as I tidy the place up and attempt to get some rest. At least for tonight my mind is distracted and for a change I do not dream of the accident or dwell on dark thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh and Gobdaw is an Irish insult...it literally means that someone is an idiot or a complete fool...and obv Clara dislikes Ithril. Hehe XD


	7. Chapter 7

"Clara! Wait!"

I spin on my heel and laugh as Oliel races towards me, the hems of her terracotta coloured dress hitched to her hip, as she practically vaults over any obstacles in her way. I struggle to hold an impatient Legolas, as he strains forward and frowns at the thought of having to wait any longer.

"I am sorry I had to retrieve a list from Master Adan; he wishes me to pick some ingredients for him while we are at the market," Oliel apologises breathlessly when she reaches my side and waves a piece of parchment under my nose.

Adan is like the royal chef, in charge of all the kitchens in the King's halls and directly responsible for feeding the royal family themselves, because god forbid Thranduil ever have to cut himself a slice of bread! Adan is actually very scatter brained and disorganised, if it was not for Oliel's efficient and verging on OCD organisational skills, he would have been sacked long ago. In fact I would wager that if not for Oliel a great many things would fall apart, she never stops, she is constantly whizzing around ensuring absolutely everything runs smoothly and to the letter, so his majesty never has to worry unnecessarily about silly mundane things. It is not often she gets a few hours to herself but today she has, and she has promised to show me the wonders of the elven markets, but of course Legolas must come too. It took some persuasion and the promise of the purchase of toy to get him to be in the least bit enthusiastic about the trip, after all shopping is shopping in any reality, and it appears the presence of the male chromosome is still programmed to genetically loathe the idea of it.

"Can we go now?" Legolas whines and tugs on my hand.

"Yes but if you keep up that ridiculously rhyming you won't be getting any toy," I warn and he instantly stops his struggling, and transforms into a little lamb that skips by my side without complaint.

"They do have toys at the market?" I mouth at Oliel and she giggles and nods, linking my free arm with her own.

"So where is your Ada today little one?" she chirpily asks Legolas, he shrugs and looks to me.

"I think the prince is stepping up his rehabilitation," I reply but before I can say anymore Legolas bounces in.

"What is reha-lib-ation?" he enquires getting tongue tied over the words making both Oliel and I giggle in unison.

"Rehabilitation," I confirm and he attempts to say the word again but gets stuck so I decide not to push him. "I think it means he is training in a way that is designed to make him better."

Legolas smiles brightly, "That is good, Ada likes to fight, before he got sick he used to let me watch him! He is brilliant I want to be just like him when I am older!"

"He let you watch?" I query a little concerned, I don't think that is the best parenting technique, violence should not be promoted.

Legolas nods and continues to act out how to sword fight, mostly it is just over active elfling imagination but it worries me. I know he is a little boy and toughness should be encouraged, but my heart actually hurts at the idea of him fighting or wanting to go to war. I am like a mother hen constantly clucking over him and wanting to retain his innocence, I don't want him to use swords even in pretend!

"Relax Clara," Oliel squeezes my arm and smiles, "Elfling ellyn are expected to show these traits, particularly Legolas, it is how our world works."

Oliel has grasped that my faked memory loss means everything is a shock to me; she constantly takes it upon herself to advise me and gently ease me into my strange new world. Something I am deeply thankful for.

"Yes I assume so, but he is so young," I say with a worried tone. I appreciate that this is expected but it doesn't make the thought any less unsettling, I causally wonder does Thranduil get upset over the idea that his little boy will be expected to fight in wars or does he actively encourage this? It is a strange predicament and not something that sits well with me.

"In a decade or so he will be expected to start training too with his peers," she replies solemnly, "It is something we put emphasis on in our culture Clara. We are not renowned for our wisdom or beauty we woodland elves, we are known for our cunning and our stealth."

"I see," I murmur, "I guess I am just feeling a little protective over him."

Oliel laughs gently and nods, "Yes all mothers do at some point with their children."

"I am not his mother," I say quite forcefully and shocked that Oliel would even put me into that category. I have only been caring for Legolas for a few short months, and I am only his caretaker.

"No I know that," she nods, "but you are the closest thing he has to maternal affection, so I think it is natural for you to be protective over him, do you not think so?"

"I guess so," I smile shyly, "but I do think Thranduil or even Oropher will not appreciate you saying such things."

"Oh I think Thranduil appreciates your efforts," she gives me a knowing look and shakes her head, "but there is no impressing the King I will agree with you there."

The two of us start giggling at the statement; it is true though, as much as the King is gracious and kind to all of us, he is without doubt a grouch. I assume the crown does that, I don't think I have ever read about or learned about a happy King or Queen. Legolas stops bounding about for a moment and gives me an impatient look;

"Hurry up you two!" He shouts, "We will never get to the market if you keep talking."

"Mind your manners remember no toys for badly behaved little boys," I scold and he sighs dramatically before trudging back to my side.

"Do not worry little one I will make sure Clara gets you a toy," Oliel teases and Legolas grins at me triumphantly.

"Ollie better watch out or she will not be getting any treats either," I reply haughtily and rise the cloth bag that is draped over my shoulders; "I have lunch remember."

"You would not withhold food from us?" Oliel gasps and turns to Legolas with a pained expression.

"Hmm I might?" I grin and start skipping forwards, "Guess you'll have to catch me first!"

"After her!" Legolas roars with delight, and Oliel joins in the war cry before the two of them start charging after me.

This is how we reach the market, at a flat out sprint; by the time I get there I am out of puff and ready to drop. Legolas collides with me and wraps his arms tightly around my waist restricting my ability to move and breathe even more;

"Surrender the goods bandit!" he cried and tugs at the bag around my shoulders.

"Argh alright alright!" I wheeze and hand him the bag to which he cheers triumphantly and rushes to present Oliel with their ill gained goods, who cheers and praises his swiftness.

Oliel dishes out a simple meal of buttered bread to munch on as we enter the market, I have a few berries and nuts stuck in the bag too but if Legolas finds them he'll eat them all in one sitting, and that is just not good for him. We learnt the hard way after he devoured a large bowl of nuts and berries all by himself, his poor little digestive system suffered for days after that, but I think it was more traumatising for me. Since then I have been very particular over what he eats and I do my utmost to ensure he is eating a very balanced diet, for the love of all that is holy just listen to me, I am a big clucking hen. Oliel is right I am morphing into this maternal creature, I better be careful or I will be all broody next and seeking out the first poor, unsuspecting, suitable male candidate to start reproducing with. Yea because they are flocking in their droves to propose to me, you know I am quite annoyed, I get this vastly improved elvish body and still no one pays me the blind bit of notice, or if they do it is just to peer strangely at me, bloody typical!

The markets are a hive of activity, brightly lit, loud and bustling. Musicians play common tunes for common people, with drums, horns and tambourines. There is singing and chattering, all sorts of voices, all beautiful and strange. I am undoubtedly overwhelmed by the sounds, the smells and sensations, but in the best way. Even Legolas is a little in awe as he clutches my hand and gawps curiously at the brightly coloured and decorated stalls. Oliel is babbling away beside me, explaining the layout; where to find the best traders of materials, the best stalls for essential items and maybe even some stalls for the not so essential items, like jewellery and fancy things. I really don't care, I just want to see everything, to find the origin of the appetising smells and eat said origins. I want to dance to the tunes of the musicians, I want to know what they are singing in their strange but glorious language, I just want to have fun!"

"Ollie?" I cry and she stops her incessantly talking for a moment, she always does when I call her 'Ollie,' instead of Oliel.

"Shut up!" I sigh dramatically and grip her arm to tug her forward.

"Where are you going?" She squeaks, I think a little scared by the wild look in my eyes.

"Everywhere!" I shriek and Legolas cheers at my side. "Come on let's go!"

xXx

A few hours later I am knee deep in a stall that sells the most glorious tapestries I have ever seen, they are just complete works of art and I want them all but I don't earn money, and I don't think elves trade in cash. Every now and again I pop my head up like a scouting meerkat, just to check Legolas is within my eyeline. He has actually made friends with a few elflings, and they are admittedly causing a bit of havoc with their energetic game of tag. It has not been the first time in the past twenty minutes that I've warned him to be careful, he has successfully tripped up a few unsuspecting merchants. Yet he always apologises and manages to win the affections of the adult elves with his heart melting smile, but some do appear to register who he is; his clothing and his mannerisms set him apart from the other kids, he is obviously nobility.

"Do you see anything you like child?" A very kindly looking elleth with deep red hair and bright green eyes asks. I drop the tapestry I am holding and give a guilty look.

"Yes I do they are all beautiful but I don't think I can afford them," I say sadly and lovingly stroke the material.

"Of course you can," she laughs, "My dear what do you have that I can trade with?"

"Not much, some fresh loaves from the royal kitchens if that works for you," I joke but she smiles brightly.

"Wonderful I shall have one loaf if you can spare it to me, and in return you may pick a small piece from my collection," she replies and I feel my jaw slacken. I get a beautiful tapestry for one lousy loaf, elves are awesome!

"Okay, yea sure here," I dip my hand into the cloth bag and present her with a large honey loaf.

"Oh it smells divine!" She exclaims, "Tell me do you work in kitchens for the King?"

"No actually I am the young prince's nursemaid…nanny…caretaker person," I really need to clarify my actual job title before I confuse every single person I meet.

"Ai! I knew it!" She cries and smiles adoringly at the little blonde head that's whipping back and forth the pavilion. "I knew that was the little princeling, is he not the most beautiful little ellon you have seen."

"He is indeed," I confirm with an equally adoring smile, and select my desired tapestry; a beautiful green and gold design of a tree, I mentally decided to make this into a cushion cover, since Oliel is teaching me how to sew properly.

"Pity about his father though," she murmurs and takes the item from me to fold and wrap in cloth. "I hear he has a terrible temper, that boy is lucky to have a lady as lovely as you watching over him, no doubt he receives no tender love from his father."

"Excuse me?" I hear the accusing tone in my voice and the elleth looks at me in surprise. "I believe the Prince to be very loving towards his son."

"My apologies," she replies and hands me my purchase, "I did not mean any offense, I am but a common silvan elf and I know very little of the workings of the royal family, only that which I am told."

"And what were you told?" I demand a little indignantly.

"That the Prince is a hard elf with little love in his heart for anything but his own blood, he sent his wife away after she had the little one, I heard it was because she out grew her usefulness."

The elleth answers honestly and I feel my chest constrict, I want to tell her she is wrong but for all I know this could be the truth. After all the Thranduil I met initially was quite nasty and cutting and maybe if it was a marriage of convenience then he had no reason to be pleasant with his wife. Maybe she was terrified of him and maybe I am jumping to conclusions and being terribly judgmental, I was warned about such rumours but every lie has its source in the truth and I guess this is just another piece to the puzzle.

"Well I can confirm any dealings I have with his highness are always very pleasant," I say as calmly and indifferently as I can manage, "but I am new to this kingdom and I know very little of his past indiscretions, nor do I want too."

"Indeed it is probably best kept that way," the elleth smiles and bobs her head in respect to me; "It is an honour meeting a high lady of the King's court I pray we meet again."

"Oh I am sure of it," I reply breezily and saunter out of the stall, a very childish part of me does not want to go back to her stall, but the more mature part reminds me she is just repeating gossip besides her tapestries are stunning.

Once out in the crowds again I start looking for my little charge, I hear the children playing and absently start calling for him as I wrestle to place my purchase in my bag. When he doesn't answer initially I sigh and snap my head up, he is definitely not getting a toy now;

"Legolas you have three seconds to-" I stop suddenly and realise that none of the children still racing about the courtyard are him, my mouth goes dry and the most horrible feeling washes over me. Where is he? Oh No! Oh god I can't breathe!

"Legolas!" I cry again and start randomly shoving people out of my way in my panic. You hear horror stories of children being snatched in plain sight, but this is an elven stronghold surely to god no-one would kidnap a child. But what if they did? I would never forgive myself and Thranduil would be destroyed, he would rip me apart and I would not blame him. This is my fault, this is my entire fault! The one thing I was charged with, caring for the little prince and I cannot even do that, I am pathetic and…wait…

"PUT HIM DOWN!" I shriek at the blonde haired elf man that has Legolas in his arms. He stops and turns to regard me with an expression that can only be described as amusement.

"Are you deaf you big lug," I scream as I stomp wildly towards him, "Put that boy down or I'll…I'll beat you to an inch of your life!"

"Really?" Is the elf's disbelieving answer, "and why would you do that?"

I stride right up to him, my breath coming so sharply I almost sound like I am snarling. I only register now this elf is dressed in clothing that would indicate he is some kind of guard or solider. Yet I don't care, I'll scratch his eyeballs out if he makes one wrong move! It is Legolas' little giggle that snaps me out of my furious trance, I blink at him and feel my brows pull together;

"Clara you are so silly," he sniggers and pats the elf on the shoulder playfully "This is Aradan he is Ada's friend, and mine too."

"Oh!" is my only reply and I do the only thing I'm good at, and blush as bright as a berry.

The golden haired elf laughs at my embarrassment and easily rests Legolas on his hip so as to outstretch his hand to me, for once I stare at it confusion;

"You are supposed to shake it," he adds, I jump and quickly grip is hand in a firm handshake.

"You should really keep me updated on your many friends Legolas," I quip and he just grins at me completely unperturbed.

"You must be Lady Clara, Legolas' young guardian," Aradan smiles broadly and I blush further, he is really rather attractive, in the obvious drop dead gorgeous kind of way.

"Um H-h-hi," I stammer, "apologies about the angry outburst I thought you were trying to kidnap him."

Aradan laughs loudly again and shakes his head, so his long golden hair lands about his shoulders in silky tendrils. He straightens up and twists his body to the left to call over his shoulder at someone;

"You did not tell me she was so beautiful Thranduil, are you not the luckiest noble elf to have such beauties wondering around your home?" he speaks with that silky elven voice that makes me sway on my feet, wait did he just say Thranduil?

"Ada!" Comes the high pitched keen that confirms that Aradan did indeed say Thranduil.

I watch with glee as Legolas wriggles from the elf's arms and bounds the short distance to a cloaked and hooded figure about several feet away. The figure crouches down on one knee and extends his arms just in time to receive Legolas, like a well-practised routine. The force of Legolas' embrace knocks his hood back, revealing the very familiar visage of the prince. Though I am slightly confused as to why he is so wrapped up, I mean it is the summer; there is absolutely no need for the cloak, the hood and the scarf covering his mouth and nose. Unless of course you are insecure about the horrendous scars tattooing your entire body, hmm it is surprising how I don't notice them anymore.

"Ge Suilon Ionneg!" Thranduil exclaims and hoists his boy into his arms, Legolas frowns and tugs at the dark green scarf covering his mouth nose but doesn't ask why, he is quite the intuitive child and I'm sure he has some inclination as to why his father is using it.

"I thought you said no carrying him," I say playfully and watch the guilty smile play on his lips.

"Just this once," he mutters sheepishly in reply resting his head on Legolas' for the briefest moment. Seriously how could anyone come to the conclusion that he was incapable of showing love, stupid misinformed gossip mongers!

"Enjoying the markets Clara?" Aradan asks pleasantly whilst Thranduil and his son have an entirely elvish conversation.

"Yes it is my first time visiting," I say but strain around him in an attempt to follow the hushed dialogue between father and child, it looks serious, I do not like that it makes me worry. Aradan is still talking and I am politely nodding away but I'm not that interested. Legolas sighs dramatically and Thranduil lets him down on the ground, so he can begrudgingly shuffle towards me.

"I am sorry Clara for not staying close by like you asked," he mumbles with his eyes downcast and kicks the dirt with his suede boot.

"That is okay darlin' just don't scare me like that again," I reply and he nods solemnly through tear rimmed eyes.

"Can I still have a toy?" he asks innocently and I chuckle.

"Legolas," Thranduil speaks his name like a warning, and I ascertain the apology was brought on by the stern words from their little conversation.

"It's fine, and for apologizing of course you can." I confirm and the tears suddenly vanish. "When Ollie gets here we'll go pick something okay?"

He nods and points dramatically behind me; "There she is can I tell her, can I ask her to take me to the stall with the wooden swords? Please Clara?"

I turn my head and sigh as Oliel is waving at us from the distance laden with her purchases, I admit she could do with the help; "Alright but you must help Ollie carry the baskets."

Legolas excitedly hops from foot to foot and makes his father promise to not disappear until he returns with his toy, Thranduil agrees and I catch a hint of impatience in Aradan's eyes; clearly he had plans for the afternoon. I watch him scamper off to Oliel and assist her with her excessive baggage, clearly the cook wasn't kidding about needing a few things from the market.

"Who is Ollie?" Thranduil asks with a humour filled voice.

"I struggled to say her name and the alternative stuck!" I reply with confidence, I will not accept being made fun of for trying to come to terms with this headache of a language. Aradan snorts back an amused chuckle, but surprisingly Thranduil just nods in understanding.

"I thought you were training today my lord," I ask with mild interest, it is not my place to question how he spends his free time. He goes to speak but Aradan cuts him off.

"He is or was; only it seems he has got distracted," he turns and playfully shoves the prince, who is just a tad too slow to escape the gentle blow; "Look at you Thranduil you qre all over the place, I am not near tough enough on you."

"You will regret that comment when I can see through both eyes again," Thranduil seethes through gritted teeth.

"Ha! It is only a bravado Clara pay, him no heed, he just likes to think he is a great warrior," Aradan laughs uproariously and causally throws an arm around me.

"I do not think I am great warrior, I know I am," The prince teases and sohots me an exasperated look; "He is taking advantage of a wounded solider Clara is shows you the height of his integrity."

I chuckle and wink at him; this seems to appease his bruised ego; that I should believe him over this fancy newcomer. Aradan narrows his eyes at his royal friend and shakes his head;

"Oh yes I forgot you fought a dragon that makes you the better warrior," Aradan continues to banter but I watch Thranduil pale suddenly, and I mean he literally goes the most horrendous colour of grey; "You know we will never hear the end of this, I am surprised that he has not divulged all the over dramatized details already, has he told you Clara? Oh I bet he has, he has a habit of charming young ellith was his tales of bravery."

"No actually he hasn't," I shrug away from Aradan and scowl at him, does he have no tact whatsoever.

Thranduil looks sick, and I am not entirely sure if he has the capacity to keep the contents of his stomach down. His eyes are filled with that same hard to place fear that I have seen only a handful of times before, he is not listening to us, he is not present in this situation. His hands are shaking and he look about ten seconds away from having a mental breakdown, in the very public domain of the outskirts of a marketplace with too many people to stand and draw judgement. I gingerly step closer to the prince and put a firm but comforting hand on his forearm, applying just enough pressure to draw him back to his surroundings. He flinches away from me but at least he is reacting to me, and he doesn't seem to be lost in a recurring nightmare.

"Thranduil?" Aradan asks and then looks worriedly to me; "I think we shall end our training for today."

"I am fine," Thranduil snaps and pulls his hood over his head again, "We have not finished this run."

"I say we have," Aradan replies firmly, "And Lord Elrond has given me direct authority over how far you should push yourself, we can try again the day after next."

"Lord Elrond does not hold authority over you, you are my captain and I say we are not finished," Thranduil answers coldly, and I frown at him, his stubbornness will be his ruin I swear it! He catches my eye and gives me a less than impressed look but I don't care he is being ridiculous, and I'll tell him exactly that if he asks.

"No but it is by his hand that you are still with us," Aradan interjects and gives me an apologetic look, "Thranduil Geheno nin! Im Pe channas!"

"No! Dol gin lost!" Thranduil replies haughtily and crosses his arms about his chest.

All three of us stand in an awkward silence and I feel like I should excuse myself to go find Legolas, after all that is my job, but the prince still looks like he is about to vomit and I feel I should stay just in case he does. Mercifully I hear the approach of two sets of familiar footsteps and I turn to greet Oliel and Legolas, who is brandishing a small wooden sword and shield. I roll my eyes and Oliel mouths her apologies at her poor choice of toy. Though I make a fuss nonetheless, and proclaim him to be the bravest knight in the woods. This delights him to no end and he quickly scurries to show his father his fascinating new weaponry. Thranduil acts in pretty much the same way I did, but takes a greater interest in the weapons and the two discuss the merits of the sword in their own tongue.

"Right well we better get going," I eventually mutter and help Oliel shoulder her heavily laden baskets of goods. "Come on great warrior you need to bathe before supper."

"Tolo Ada, govano nin!" Legolas chirps and holds out his hand to his father in a beckoning motion, so I assume he wants Thranduil to come with him.

Thranduil sighs and nods at his son, but gives Aradan a warning look, the Captain smirks and falls into line behind his prince. Legolas unaware of the earlier tensions chatters on at a rate of knots, mostly in elvish so I have not a notion what he is jabbering on about, but his father seems to be following more or less. Our small gaggle make our way back to the private halls of the King without much fuss, Legolas keeping all of us entertained the whole way back, dissolving any ill feelings with his musical chatter and infectious energy. I even note that Thranduil's colour vastly improves as he forces all his attention and focus on his son, his little saving grace. Oliel leaves us to go stock up the kitchens and see to whatever else has accumulated in her absence, whilst I cart Legolas off to his bath, and the Prince and his Captain retire to his private chambers for no doubt a fascinating military conversation.

Thankfully Legolas is dead on his feet after his day of adventures, and after his bath can barely stay awake to eat his supper. I carry him into bed and wrap him up warm; our little routine is for me to lie with him until he falls asleep, and even in his half zombie like state, he still manages to mumble coherent protests for me to stay. But it doesn't take long, after one chorus 'Tura lura lura,' he is out cold and I give him a quick squeeze and peck goodnight. I tip toe to his doorway and smile peacefully at his slumbering form, he is just so perfect and when he is unconscious he appears like a pure little angelic being, and not the complete tearaway that he is! With a soft sigh I pull the door closed and attempt to creep away to my own bed, which is practically calling to me, I have not slept at all in a few nights and well even elvish bodies suffer sleep deprivation eventually.

"That was a beautiful lullaby."

"ARGH! What the hell!" My heart stops beating and my words come out like a strangled whisper. When I regain a pulse and register there is no need to fight for my life, I glare at the Prince who is practically doubled in two at my expense.

"You should have seen your expression Clara," he laughs as quietly as he can. "Oh it was priceless."

"Oh sod off!" I snap and brush past him, "You know your behaviour could be considered stalker like, skulking about dark corridors at night spying on helpless she elves."

"Only this is my home and I am perfectly entitled to check on my child," he sniggers and predictably follows after me.

"Irrelevant," I reply haughtily, "I still say you're stalking me."

"And what if I am?"

I stop and swivel to peer questioningly at him, "Then I say you have a problem, and that I can scream really really really loud, so watch yourself Prince!"

He laughs gently and shakes his head, and I notice that when he actually genuinely smiles his eyes glint mischievously, how very peculiar I have never noticed that before.

"Oh I am scared," he challenges and steps in front of me blocking my exit, I stretch up on my tip toes so I can just about reach his eye line.

"You should be," I warn and he literally snorts in my face, rude much; "You're laughing now but I mean it, one bellow from these lungs and you'll be permanently deaf!"

"Add it to the list of mounting disabilities that I have," he teases and rolls his eyes. "but at least I can say I made you scream."

"What!" I gasp and push him away from me, "That was bold, that was an inappropriate innuendo right there."

Over the past few weeks the relationship between Thranduil and I has improved greatly, and though I am ashamed to admit, sometimes it teeters dangerously on the side of flirtation. I think nothing of it though, it is harmless and he is naturally a charismatic elf. I am sure he has this sort of attitude with all ellith, but I have warmed to him and I know that if someone like him existed in my world we would have been friends there too.

"I apologize," Thranduil replies and grins; "but you do have the tendency to bring out the worst in me Clara."

"Then keep your distance," I scold playfully though I really hope he has no intention of doing that; "I am not the one stalking me around dark corners."

"You do not mean that," he leans against a pillar and raises an eyebrow at me.

I sigh and cross my arms about my chest; "Alright you win, you've got my attention what is it you want?"

"I want the pleasure of your company."

"Well I ain't going anywhere!"

"No not now."

"Then when? You're forgetting my full time role is to care for your son, that doesn't exactly free me up!"

He chuckles and gives me that lopsided smile that wins me over, it doesn't matter what he asks me to do now, I will probably agree to it. Seriously I feel completely manipulated by both father and son!

"I can arrange for Oliel to look after Legolas for a few hours," Thranduil shrugs as if my statement is irrelevant to him, "You deserve a break Clara and I promised I would help you."

I narrow my eyes and mutter; "Alright I'm intrigued keep talking."

"Meet me before dawn at the marketplace and I shall show you," he replies confidently.

"Oh come on I need a better reason than that to get up before dawn!" I scoff and roll my eyes at the mere suggestion.

"It will be just me there, no entourage; you will have my full and undivided attention. What more of a reason do you need?" He smirks when my eyes pop at his attitude.

"You are so full of yourself! You're a right cocky bas-"

"I prefer to use the terms self-assured and confident when referring to myself," he cuts in and gives me a meaningful look, I have gathered elves are not fond of swearing.

"Oh alright then, but there better be breakfast in this for me!" I demand and jab my finger at him in warning, he bats it away and chuckles.

"I promise there will be food," he confirms and turns to leave, "See you soon mellon nin."

"Too soon," I grouch and I am almost certain I catch his snigger as he makes his way back in the direction of his chambers.

Right well I better go and attempt to catch a few winks before I am forced to take part in whatever fun filled day of events Thranduil has in store for me. Oh please don't let this be a sword fighting tutorial, not at that time in the morning, or for that matter anything physical. I am not exactly in the best shape to be engaging in elven acrobatic style self-defense lessons. With a loud groan I scuttle in the direction of my bed and mentally try and decide what in the hell I am going to wear. See this is why girls need specific instructions as to what a day's activities will involve; men never think of this they just roll out of bed and are ready to rock. Especially elven men, I am convinced Thranduil doesn't even have to fix a hair when he gets out of bed, Clara dear why are you thinking of the prince in bed? Well this new!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ge Suilon Ionneg- means "I welcome you my son." sort of said like an exclamation of happiness at the presence of someone.
> 
> Thranduil Geheno nin! Im Pe channas! - means roughly "Thranduil forgive me! I am an idiot."
> 
> No! Dol gin lost - means "Yes! Your head is empty/you are foolish."
> 
> Tolo Ada, govano nin! - means "Come Papa, join us."
> 
> Sooo what do you think? Was it enjoyable? Am I doing okay? Please lemme know :)  
> Also thank so much for all the Kudos and positive feedback means a lot xox


	8. Chapter 8

It is really rather chilly before the dawn, and I instinctively clasp my hands over my arms and vigorously try and rub some heat into myself. If I ever have the pleasure of meeting Tolkien, I want to advise him that yes elves are immortal, and oh yes they are very resilient, but that does not make them completely impervious to the cold. Then again I am not sure whether I am cold or just a tad nervous, as I quietly walk along the nearly empty pathways which lead to the marketplace. I decided to wear something universal; a silvery tunic and dark grey leggings which are very sturdy in make. I sourced these more practical clothes with the help Oliel, who magically is able to find absolutely anything you need at a moment's notice. She also located me a ladies over coat style garment, which fits over said tunic because apparently going out in just your tunic is considered a little underdressed. It is in more neutral shades of green and brown and is fastened down the front with silvery buttons, which on closer inspection are little leaves, it is padded in all the right areas just in case I am expected to wrestle something then I shouldn't be too badly bruised in the process. The best laugh was the knee high suede and leather boots, in which I had to get Oliel to tie them because I was useless at it; frankly these boots are on so tight they will never ever come off!

I eventually round the last bend and make out Thranduil standing, as promised, alone and with no entourage. He is not so wrapped up as he was yesterday, in fact he is dressed really rather casual, something I am not used too. I am used to fine robes and loose fitting but exquisite tunics, clothing that practically screams, 'I am a Prince…hear me roar.' However this is the first time I have seen him appear so normal, for want of a better description, he could be any random male elf wandering around in the early hours before dawn, except I would know that long mass of platinum locks anywhere. Though his hair is scraped back, secured and tucked down the back of his cloak, there are still silky flyaway strands that are loose and long about his face and shoulders. His clothing is dark green, almost black in the dim light, tighter fitting than his usual apparel more streamlined, the kind of clothing used to face elements. As I get closer I spy a bow and quiver strapped to his back and the glint of something shiny at his hip, a knife perhaps? I think maybe we are busting out of these caves, and suddenly I am full of excitement!

"Good Morning Clara," he calls in welcome and saunters towards me, "So you managed to leave the warmth of your bed then?"

"I did!" I answer dryly, "but I see no breakfast, you promised?"

He chuckles and nods his head in the direction of an opening in the rock, something I did not see the day before and how I didn't is beyond me. It is an entrance out of the caves, quite large and I can see the dark sky turning paler. I automatically start trotting towards it, I am practically tingling with anticipation for I haven't seen the outside world in so long. Thranduil gets my drift and follows after me, though I reckon he has just been waiting on me to catch on, aw ever the gentile noble elf. The two of us quickly scale the steps and rocks to the entrance and I gasp in mixture of relief and joy at the sight.

On the mouth of the natural opening I stand to see the forest stretching out before me, it's size is so incredible that there appears to be no end to it as it flows right to the limits of my vision. I hear water gushing to my left and right, and make out the naturally falling waterfalls as they pummel down from above our heads. I skip as close to the edge as I am brave enough to dare, and glance upwards to make out the twisting vines of ivy and growing things, all crawling towards the light of day, towards the sun, I have missed the sun! I hear myself laugh breathlessly as I daringly inch across the distance to catch the falling water in my hands, from a smaller less forceful waterfall, it is so clean and glistening that I instantly cup it to my mouth and sup it.

"This. Is. Incredible!" I shout over the din to Thranduil, who is standing right at the very edge of the rock. I cannot even fathom how the rock supports his weight but he is watching me with the widest grin that makes me blush.

"This is only the beginning Clara, and you are already awestruck!" He laughs and outstretches his hand towards me.

I hesitantly look at his hand and around at the massive natural structure, the rocks jut away and there are no steps or stairs, I can't do this! Is he mad? You would need safety harnesses to scale this thing. Yet I find myself taking his hand and fully trusting him not to let me plummet to my doom, I am insane! This is hands down the craziest thing I have ever done! Thranduil smirks at me and I guess he sees the panic in my face.

"Where are you taking me?" I ask timidly as he pulls me closer to him and takes a firmer grip of my waist, his touch making my heart rate accelerate and I swallow hard.

"Upwards, there is a ledge a few feet up and across from here, it is perfect for watching the sunrise and truly seeing the splendour of Greenwood," he speaks as he swivels me in the direction we intend to go. I feel his lips come level with my ear and his voice is soft and encouraging; "It is alright I have you Clara. You will not fall; this is as easy as breathing I promise."

"Sure it is!" I scoff but he only chuckles and pushes me forward, and not even gently. I guess he knows the only way he will get me to move is to force me.

Though as I step out onto the rocks and let my feet find their place, I realise that my every step seems more secure. If I feel off balanced in the slightest my body corrects itself almost instinctually, it doesn't need to be forced or told to do this it just does what it was made to do. It also helps that Thranduil never lets go, his hands are sure and his feet never misstep, at times he stays behind me or at others he steps in front of me and guides me. It is not until I see the grassy covered ledge about ten feet in front of me that I start moving a little faster across the narrow rocks, I realise there is nothing to stop me toppling down the twenty feet sheer drop but Thranduil's strong grip but I trusted him this far. When I reach the flat landing I turn to smile triumphantly at the Prince, but I am shocked to find him standing only halfways across the narrow path, smiling proudly at me;

"See it is not so hard," he grins as he lops across the distance between us and gives me a meaningful look; "The fear is in your own head Clara, you are elf kind this is normal for you, you just need to let your body remember."

"You tricked me!" I accuse as he settles himself down on the ground and stares out at the view.

"Correction I helped you," he replies with a smirk, "Now stop talking and enjoy this sunrise with me."

I sigh and huffily drop down beside him that was completely uncalled for; he could have let me know he was going to do that! What happens if I had of fallen, I bet he wouldn't be so smug then! A small and more logical voice reminds me I would not have fallen, firstly because Thranduil would never be that careless and secondly because Thranduil was right, oh damn that voice I don't want him to be right! There is no living with him when he thinks he is right!

"Clara stop thinking it is very distracting," he mutters and watches me out the side of his eye, a coy smile playing on his lips.

"Well excuse me for-"

"Hush, you must listen!"

I glare at him but do as I'm told and when I do I hear the glorious sounds of the awakening forest. The birds that have been singing so beautifully suddenly reach their deafening crescendo, as the sky turns vibrant pink and gold with the hazy yellow sun slowly peeking through the gaps in the tall firs, which are even taller than the ledge we sit on. My jaw drops and I slowly stand to my feet, this is not something you just sit by and leisurely watch, this is something you stand for. You stand in the presence of creation and the powerful majesty of nature, it deserves such respect. The songs of the many birds are incredible, so much more perfect than any sound you could make on an instrument. Yet there is something else on the air, a new sound breathy and like nothing I have ever heard before, a strange new frequency.

"Can you hear them Clara?" Thranduil whispers in my ear as he comes to stand behind me.

"What am I hearing?" I murmur back in confusion.

"The voices of the forest," comes his reply and it is almost said in a tone of reverence.

"The trees," I gasp in shock, "They sing, they actually sing."

"What do they tell you?"

"I don't know…I am not sure?"

"Listen with your spirit not your ears."

I stand quietly for a moment not entirely sure what he means, how do you listen with your spirit, what is your spirit? I feel his hands on my shoulders and he whispers something beautiful in his own language, and in that moment I can hear more clearly. No! hear is not the right word, I feel more clearly. The breathy sounds suddenly becoming sharper and filled with purpose, they are celebrating life, they are sighing with contentment as the sun fills their beings with fresh life and they are giving praises back to a greater entity. Slowly I feel the pressure of Thranduil's hands leave my shoulders and the voices grow quieter again but still very much present. I turn to look at him questionably, that was a significant experience I could not have done that on my own;

"How?" is the only thing I manage to say and he smiles fondly?

"Did you hear it?" he asks softly.

"Yes, yes I did they were praising the source of their life, they were joyous! I don't think I've heard such purity before," I ramble out, my head completely blown off by the sensation.

He just smiles mysteriously and nods his head in agreement, before turning his attention back to the rising sun. I narrow my eyes and boldly step closer to him, I want to know how I was able to understand that when I couldn't before;

"I know you did something just there, what was it?" I ask calmly, he glances at me lazily and sighs; "You said something to me and I want to know what?"

"I awakened your slumbering spirit," he replies and I frown prompting him to elaborate; "I used the strength in mine to call to yours."

"That sounds personal," I mumble, "why?"

"An elf does not experience their world with just their physical senses; they do so with their fea or spirit, it is our connection to each other, to our world, and things unseen."

"And mine was feeling a bit sleepy?"

Thranduil chuckles gently and nods; "You could say that; when a spirit is hurt it hides away until another calls it out."

"And that is what you did?" I ask shyly, this is all sort of heavy, I never thought much about philosophical things before I just assumed age and life experience would eventually bring wisdom. I did not think for one second you could be born with an innate ability to be so spiritual.

"Only a little," he answers softly; "I am not much of a healer but I do have power enough for that."

"Power?" My eyes pop at the statement, "What like magic?"

Thranduil gives me a look that suggests I am asking too many questions, but the lightness in his eyes betrays him, he is enjoying this and my curiosity amuses him. He walks to the edge of the ledge and observes the drop and without looking up he answers me;

"Magic is such a childish term, but yes in essence you could call it that."

"Can you show me?" I swear I am completely enthralled by him and even a little frightened, and I know I am pushing my luck but I can't help it the mystery is killing me. He glances up at me and a perplexed look crosses his features;

"I just did," is his simple reply, I go to argue the point but he cuts me off; "You know the thrill of elven magic is nothing compared to the thrill of pushing your own physical abilities, trust me it is far more rewarding."

I do not get to say another word as I stupidly allow him to take my hand and guide me to the edge of the rock. I see that the crystal clear pool of water below before it cuts off into various streams, which I assume all come together as one large river at some point. Suddenly I get the sickening feeling about what Thranduil implied about the thrills in physical pushing yourself. I gulp and look at him with a horrified and disbelieving expression;

"No Thranduil!" I squeak and attempt to tug away from him; "There has to be another way down?"

"Of course there is but it would take too long," he mutters, "besides I fancy a swim."

"Please don't!" I beg uselessly as he tightly wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me flush to himself. I let out a strangled whimper and practically embed my nails in his shoulders. Oh no no no no; I am going to die here to today, why am I letting him do this…do I want to die? Why is there an insane part of my brain that is letting this psychotic elf do this to me? Could it be that there is no way I am getting out of his vice like grip, dammit Clara stop being so trusting!

"I hate you," I muffle into his chest and feel his throaty laughter, before my feet are swept out from under me and I'm in his arms. I will not look, if I look I will have heart failure.

"You can swim?" he asks and I peek up at him with one eye, the other tightly shut.

"If I say no will you abandon this insane notion?" I ask and cross my fingers so tightly they hurt.

"Now Clara what would ever make you think I am that considerate?" He answers and I feel him make the slightest movement forward.

"Thranduil Nooo!" I howl as I feel the sudden weightlessness and the roar of wind whipping past my ears.

The gravity separates us momentarily and my stomach hits my mouth, I cannot express in words the utter fear and the complete freedom that is the sensation of falling. It is over in seconds, as we crash into the crystal water below, the feeling like smashing through glass only I don't feel pain just shock. The water envelopes me in its brisk coolness, it is invigorating and utterly terrifying all at once. I feel the sensation of a grip of strength around my waist again and soon I am breaking through the water, gasping for air and thrashing about in mild delirium. I am breathless and wild eyed as I register that I am clinging to my captor for grim death.

"You eejit! You complete and utter eejit!" I choke out and shake violently from the adrenaline. Thranduil does nothing but laugh and keep me afloat, for I am too traumatised to do that myself.

"I enjoyed that!" he cackles breathlessly and scowl at him.

"Which part?" I ask indignantly, "The bit where you almost killed me or the part where I drown you?"

"Drown me?" He asks but it is a little too slow, and I successfully crash a miniature tidal wave of water over his unsuspecting head with a slap of my arm. Well it is the closest thing to being able to punch him that I'll get!

He coughs and splutters for air, kicking himself away from me before I reign down another torrent of water. His laughing intensifies and so does mine as we engage in a water fight, my earlier disagreement with him momentarily forgotten, though I am loathed to admit that jump was the most fun I have ever had. Now I understand the kick people get when they happily throw themselves out of aeroplanes, it is actually an addictive feeling.

Once we have both completely exhausted each other by chasing ourselves around the water, I eventually swim to the bank and Thranduil hoists me helpfully out of the water, only dropping me back in a handful of times. Together we stroll through the woods, the beautiful, enchanting, jaw droopingly beautiful woods. It is an incredible place and I rush about from tree to tree, or spin in circles looking skyward trying to fathom how tall the trees really are. I stop at every flower, shrub and fern asking a zillion questions, which Thranduil patiently answers and if I miss something he calls me back to see it.

On our travels he teaches me the fruits I can eat and how to forage for wild foods, which is what we dine on, nothing fancy just natural sustenance. Some of the berries are so large and taste like nothing I have ever tried before, and the hazelnuts are my favourite, in fact I don't think my mouth ever stops. Thranduil helps me listen carefully to the trees and I draw so much peacefulness from their ancient tranquillity, that I wonder how I ever lived such a deprived and barely living existence before. I feel a deep and profound change begin within in me, for the first time since I arrived here my body begins to feel like my own, I think I am beginning to mend and at last feel in control of myself. Yet it is easy to here, in the rooted and steady heartbeat of the forest, you can be nothing but connected to yourself here.

I don't know how long we have been walking or where exactly we are when Thranduil stops and points to a tree. I give him a confused look and he laughs;

"There is a lovely view from this tree," he answers and I sigh, he wants me to climb a tree. "Do not give me that look, you scaled a rock face and jumped from high ledge today, Clara you can climb this tree."

"I was tricked into scaling a rock face and forcefully thrown from that ledge," I correct him and he stifles more laughter; "But I'll try it if you want."

With much huffing and puffing and several leg ups, Thranduil successfully gets me into the branches. I am not so confident about this tree climbing business and hug every single branch, as we clamber up the trunk. Thranduil makes it look so effortless and gracefully swings and vaults from branch to branch, I hate him and his perfect perfectness! After a few minutes we make it into body of the tree, and I can see why he wanted me to see this. For what I think are leaves suddenly turn to butterflies when we disturb their resting; they take to wing and flutter and swirl around us. I gasp and laugh breathlessly at the sea of glittering colours of greens, blues, reds and coopers.

For the longest moment we stand in the branches and I gawp in awe at the sight, eventually though I register Thranduil watching me and I stop to meet his gaze. I blush at the almost adoring look he gives me; I don't understand it no-one has ever looked at me like that before. He eventually chuckles and breaks my trance like state;

"Come, we better make for home before sunset or Legolas will not be impressed by either one of us."

I reluctantly nod and try and figure out how long we have been gone, it doesn't seem like hours, and in fact this day seems to have flown by. Thranduil effortlessly drops down the branches, pausing every now and again to assist me or tease me about my slowness. Once we near the bottom he lands on the forest floor and tells me to make the rest of the way down myself, without his help.

I think I am doing quite well up until my foot gets caught on a well-positioned stem of climbing ivy. I hear the shrill yell I let out and know I am going to fall, oh nice way to end the day, I am furious at myself I had done so well. My balance goes and I brace myself for the nasty collision with the ground.

"Clara!"

Is the only thing Thranduil manages to say before I collide with him, I feel the air huff out of my lungs and the sensation of tumbling. I also hear the unmistakable sound of someone being winded as their back hits the ground with a nasty thud, and I'm pretty sure that because that wasn't me it was most likely Thranduil. Why would I think that? Well because I am pretty sure I am sprawled on top of him. Nice Clara, effortlessly awkward as always, oh I could crawl into a hole right now.

For a few disturbing minutes I stay face down in his chest, hoping against hope that I have not knocked him unconscious. Mercifully I feel him start to laugh softly at our new predicament and I am glowing scarlett;

"Are you alright?" He asks between wheezing laughter, but there is a hint of worry in his tone that touches me.

"Mmmhhmm," I mumble into his chest, I sigh and slowly begin to push myself up, unfortunately at the exact same time Thranduil decides to as well.

When I lift my head my heart stops and my breathing ceases, because I am a hairs breadth from his face; our noses brush and the slightest ill-timed movement will have our lips meeting. I can't do a single thing but stare at those lips, so pale and full, flawed only by the knitting scars that draw the left side of his lip downwards, and the fragile newly formed skin that forms his recovering face. I absently wonder what it would be like to kiss him, just to know what those lips feel like; his breath is so sweet and inviting that it would be so easy to just tilt my head slightly to the side and let the inevitable happen.

He doesn't move or go to pull away either, but his breath quickens and I know this sensation I've been here before a few times in my more foolish days. That pause before the first kiss, the uncertainty as to whether or not the other person wants the same thing, or if you are just imagining it all. The moment when it is all a bit fuzzy and you're not quite sure what is happening? One minute you're completely present in your surroundings and the next you can barely breathe properly.

There is a slight moment of indecision and I hear Thrandui's breath hitch a little before his lips graze mine. This throws me, I am frozen and I can't quite fathom if that was the beginnings of a kiss or an accidently bump of the lips. The longest second of my life passes and I know I should react, if I don't react then he Is going to think I don't want this, when I really, really do. Kiss him Clara, kiss him, oh for the love of all that is good on this earth stop being such a coward and kiss him!

"I am so sorry Clara," I hear him say and I feel him pull his head back, "That was out of order."

I blew it! How could I do that? Clara you deserve to be forever alone, he wanted to kiss me and I clamped up like the fool I am. I blink robotically and shake my head trying to find my voice to tell him it was not out of order, and if he wants I'll fall from the tree again and we can replay this whole scene and get the desired outcome, but instead all I stammer out is;

"S-s-sorry that was my fault."

Thranduil helps me to my feet and brushes me down; looking very upset with himself as he furiously shakes his head. I have well and truly lost the chance now, I may as well attempt to salvage what is left of our friendship;

"Well that was close," I giggle and he stops his fussing to look at me warily for a moment, "One wrong move and you could have kissed me."

His brows furrow in confusion and I keep my fingers and toes crossed that he'll believe me. I want him to think I did not know that was an attempted kiss, and it was merely an accidental brush of the lips. Thankfully it works and he quickly rearranges his expression into a breezy smile, but I catch the briefest hint of regret in his eyes and I cannot fathom why on earth he would be that annoyed about missing an opportunity of kissing me. I am certain I am no seductress and no-one has ever commended my lip-locking ability. But I am just glad we can brush over this like mature adults, besides it was really only one of those heat of the moment things, I am sure when the rush of hormones stop assaulting me I will laugh about this. In fact I already feel a bit ridiculous over it, I was romanticising the moment again, falling for a fantasy and forgetting my reality.

Years of practice at avoiding social faux pas's and just being a natural at brushing over embarrassments, means Thranduil quickly takes control of the situation and we are acting pretty much like normal again. His smooth and easy conversations make the time pass like lightening and soon we find ourselves at the forest end of a bridge that connects the King's Halls with the wood. So this is the official entrance to the Woodland realm, very flashy and almost a tad threatening!

I lop happily beside Thranduil as we cross the bridge and he points on the craftsmanship of the gates, he tells me that an enchantment lies upon them meaning those who do not bring good will cannot enter. He playfully warns me this is a test, if I can enter then I have proven my allegiance to his Father and his people, I causally laugh this off but suddenly question my own motives, thankfully my intentions are deemed pure and a thunder bolt does not shoot from the sky and strike me down. We reach the gates and the lightly armed guards stand to full attention as we approach, Thranduil does not even blink as we pass through; I on the other hand gawp shamelessly at the devotion and respect written on the solders faces. I feel I should say thank you or acknowledge their presence but something tells me this is not etiquette so I just stick close to Thranduil, and copy his behaviours.

It is only now that I register that I am in the company of a Prince, the relaxed and pleasant temperament that I have become accustomed to throughout the day, is replaced with a cool and composed exterior. He is suddenly unreadable and distant and this mask does not slip until we reach home. Standing in the archways of the entrance to my little part of this grand and intricate set of chambers, I begrudgingly accept that the best day of my existence so far has come to an end;

"Did you find today helpful," Thranduil asks with a hopeful smile.

"Helpful?" I laugh, "Your highness I cannot express the wonders this day has done for my soul!"

"Thranduil; to you Clara I am only Thranduil," he adds and stretches out to squeeze my shoulder comfortingly. "I am glad, maybe we can make this a common occurrence."

"Really?" I ask and raise my eyebrow, "You sure you're not too busy being all powerful to go climbing trees with a clumsy elf?"

He stifles a laugh and purses his lips in thought for a moment for answering; "I believe I can make time to help a hopeless case."

"How very charitable of you!" I say causally but can't help the massive smile I give him; "But really, you promise we can do this again? I mean I really enjoyed being thrown off a cliff and would totally do that again!"

"It was hardly a cliff," he sniggers, "but yes I would love to throw you off ledges again!"

"Eeee!" I excitedly sing and before Thranduil knows what has hit him I throw my arms around him, in a completely unexpected and possibly inappropriate gesture! "Thank you, thank you, thank you!"

It takes him a second to react to my burst of affection, but thankfully I feel him return the embrace and it is not half heated or one of those weak as water hugs, it is a proper 'affirming our friendship,' type hug. I hear his throaty chuckle and his voice in my ear;

"Guren glassui Clara!"

I pull back and give him a questioning look but before he can answer I hear a very familiar voice, which admittedly makes us both sigh fondly;

"Clara!" Legolas shouts as he rockets down the corridor and then when he reaches us stops and glances curiously at his father; "Ada?"

Yet before we can even explain ourselves he shakes his head and sighs dramatically; "Clara you have been away ages and ages, Oliel is not as fun as you, she doesn't know any good stories and she cannot dance! Where did you go and why did you leave me?"

"Aw honey I'm sorry," I mumble feeling incredibly guilty for my selfish little day off; "I was just out in the woods, I promise I won't disappear again without a proper warning."

"Without me?" He looks completely devastated and I vow to never leave him again without his complete permission!

"Legolas!" Thranduil laughs and crouches down to his son and ruffles his golden hair; "Stop that! Clara is allowed time to herself too, besides you know you are not allowed in the woods without me or your grandfather."

"I know," he sighs and pouts; "Ada where did you go today?"

I start to laugh as Thranduil frowns and shakes his head, truly there was no escaping this we were in a lot of trouble. I decide to take control of the situation and accept the brunt of Legolas' fury;

"Your Ada was helping me find my away around the woods," I answer honestly and I watch as his little face puckers in disappointment.

I know in his young mind I am his friend and the thought of sharing me with anyone else does not sit well with him, yet he is old enough to understand he cannot question his father either. Thranduil registers this also and I catch the flash of an idea light his eyes;

"Yes I was, and Clara and I were just discussing the prospect of another trip into the woods soon," he speaks evenly and Legolas literally looks so betrayed at the very notion; "With you of course."

The kid's eyes light up instantly and he starts bouncing about energetically;

"Really Ada I can come?" He practically sings and Thranduil nods, there is a shriek of victory from the child and he suddenly whips down the corridor, hollering for Oliel to inform her will be going on an adventure in the woods with his Ada and I.

"Smooth," I comment and nod my head in respect as I glance at the indulgent expression of a completely manipulated father; "I have to say I thought that was gonna end in tears."

"It was close," he muses and tilts his head thoughtfully to the side; "You know I have fought many a battle but , raising him is the most difficult one I have ever fought."

"You know it doesn't stop," I reply and he sighs, "It is all great now he is still a baby, just wait until he is a youth and he absolutely hates you for no other reason but the simple fact that you exist."

"Clara?"

"Hmm?"

"That is terrifying!"

I turn to look at the paled face of the prince, he looks genuinely worried and I kink up in a fit of giggles. I clap my hands on his shoulder and guide him forwards;

"Don't worry you'll do fine," I laugh gently and squeeze his shoulders, "I don't think anybody ever died from being an Ada."

"There is always a first," he mutters and I snigger; "I do not know why you are laughing, you are his nursemaid."

"I could leave you know!"

"You would not dare!"

"Might just."

"You even consider it and I shall chain you up!"

The two of use erupt into a further fit of laughter, our cackling drawing the attention of Oliel as she saunters into the hallway and observes us curiously;

"Who is chaining who up?"

Nice! It just got all fifty shades up in here and there is no way I am going to stop choking with laughter now. The fact that neither she nor Thranduil fully grasp my reaction only fuels my embarrassed giggling, and I quickly divert my gaze and skip to Oliel's side. Oliel shakes her head at me and then smiles fondly at Thranduil;

"I have just set Legolas out his supper, there is plenty more if you wish to stay?"

"I really should go attend to something official," he replies and then smirks; "before the King believes me to be missing."

"Oh come on." I interject, "Stay, have something to eat, as a thank you for putting up with me all day?"

Thranduil has the briefest of silent debates before he nods; "Oh alright since you asked so politely."

I smile broadly, more than a little delighted that he has agreed to stay for I am not quite ready for this day to end. I know he is probably breaking a lot of rules to appease me but I am thankful for it, and I only hope he doesn't get into too much trouble.

"Quick! Hide the wine," Oliel hisses as she dashes off and Thranduil strides after her making all sorts of threats if she even dare withhold it from him. Well this is going to be an interesting evening, but I am just glad I get to hang onto this happiness for a little while longer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo...well that was interesting wasn't it? Hmm more to follow xo


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"Ahh stop I am going to be sick!" I shriek in a fit of giggles as Legolas and I spin in fast circles in the middle of the lounge.

What innocently started as a playful dance has escalated to a competition to see how fast we can spin each other before someone falls over. Mostly it is Legolas but I kind of believe he just enjoys the spinning until he collapses sensation. Right now I am that dizzy I think my supper is going to come up my throat, but my plight does not concern Legolas as he squeals for me to 'do it again!'

"Legolas! Please!" I pant and clutch my head, swaying on my feet a little, but he just giggles uproariously and attempts to spin again.

"Oh no you don't!"

Thranduil sweeps across the room in a movement so fast I am not sure if it was even discernable, and to Legolas' complete and utter shock, wrestles him into his arms and forcefully spins him around at a much more alarming rate. The child howls with delight and attempts to wriggle out of his father's iron grip but it is useless and so comical to watch; as Thranduil effortlessly flips and twists his son like he weighs no more than a bag of sugar. I literally cannot stand upright from my fits of breathlessly laughter and the fact that the room is still spinning, so with as much grace as an elephant I drop to the ground on a pile of scattered cushions, which had been used to build a fort a few moments previously.

"You three are going to break my lounge!" Oliel cries defeatedly from the table, wine glass sloshing about the air as she dramatically waves her arms in gesture.

"Technically it is my lounge, and stop fretting Ollie if we break something I will fix it!" Thranduil laughs carelessly, as he continues to crush a deliriously happy Legolas to his chest in the best bear hug I have seen.

"Clara!" Oliel shouts and gives me a disapproving glare, I bite my lip and pull a cushion in front of my face; "My name is Oliel not Ollie! You are corrupting the minds of everyone I know; even Legolas calls me Ollie now!"

"But it's cute," I snigger from behind the pillow and then peek my head over the top just to make sure she isn't giving me the evils; "It suits you!"

"I second that!" Thranduil manages to say in between blowing raspberries into Legolas' neck, the child is practically emanating joy but is slowly but surely wriggling his way out of his father's arms., determined little beggar that he is!

Oliel sighs and shakes her head; "Well Ollie has to go visit her Adar, and tell him she no longer goes by the name he blessed her with!"

"Aw!" I frown, "Do you have to go?"

"Yes do you have to go Ollie?" Legolas grunts as he successfully wins the struggle with his father, and Thranduil collapses on the ruins of our cushion fort, clearly more tired out than his son.

"Unfortunately I do little one," she sighs and accepts a hasty cuddle from him, before he whips back across the room and dives on his father, knocking the breath from him and engaging him in another wrestling match! Heavens above where does he get the energy from, Thranduil is going to pass out before this little monster does.

I scramble to my feet and rush to give Oliel a hug and walk her to the door, both of us a little giddy from excessive wine consumption and on high from our banter filled supper. She promises me she will be back before dawn and warns me to have the place spotless before she returns. I dismissively wave off her comments and then race back to the much more entertaining activity that is playtime with Legolas.

For another thirty minutes are so we wrestle with him, we have a pillow war, and we even dance, well correction Legolas and I danced while Thranduil practically took an aneurysm form laughing that hard at us. Eventually exhaustion caught up with the kid and he happily dozed off in his father's arms, still with the hint of a smile playing on his lips. It still intrigues me how elves sleep with their eyes open, at first I it freaked me out but it seems so normal now, and I as peer into Legolas' silvery blue orbs glazed with sleep I believe I can almost sense the joyful dreams he is reliving.

"I am not moving from this spot until I am convinced he is completely unconscious," Thranduil whispers and then nods to the nearly full wine goblet atop the table, and with a pained expression adds; "So please assist the compromised."

I stifle back laughter and fetch him the glass, helping myself to another at the same time. I sink down on the remains of the pillow fortress and hand him off his drink. He thanks me graciously and practically downs the glass in one go;

"Easy!" I chuckle, "I cannot carry both you and Legolas to your beds."

"I am sorry I do not remember inviting you to my bed chamber?" He exclaims with an appalled look, but sniggers and tries to protect his head when I slap him with a pillow.

The movement makes Legolas sigh and grumble incoherently and the two of use freeze and remain motionless for a moment. Thankfully this is all he does before clenching fistfuls of her father's tunic in his hands, and snuggling further into his chest. Thranduil sighs in relief and shoots me a warning look, I glare right back. Well he started it!

"So how much trouble are you in?" I ask innocently as I comfortably settle myself cross legged on the pillows, and tentatively sup the strong wine, there is no way I am guzzling this stuff I've had two glasses and it feels like six, and I worked in a bar I can hold my drink! He gives a smirk and rolls his eyes as he drains the dregs of glass;

"Why would I be in any trouble?" he questions with a curious look. It is my turn to smirk; does he really think I am that naive?

"Well?" I muse and make a show of cocking my head to the side and tapping my chin in consideration; "Not that I know the first thing about royalty or exactly what a Prince's job description is, but I am pretty sure taking off for the day to tramp about a forest and then to spend the evening dining with commoners, is not part of the title?"

Thranduil nods his head and lets out one strained chuckle; "You are quite right, so yes I am in heaps of trouble, in fact if I am being completely honest I am very happy to procrastinate and not face my father."

"Aha! I knew it you're such a coward!" I exclaim and snigger into my glass when he scowls at me; "Don't look at me like that I know people, I know when they are avoiding something and when they are feeling suffocated."

"You are very observant," he sighs and diverts his usually very fixed gaze.

"Years of sitting on the side-lines watching others live instead of living myself," I admit with a shrug and take a bigger gulp of the wine, whilst simultaneously filling up Thranduil's glass, I think we need alcohol and more of it.

"I cannot believe someone as inquisitive and as bright in spirit as you could have ever lived such a dull life?" Thranduil stares at me in disbelief, his eyes suddenly fixed on me again and I see the beginnings of a thousand questions run through his mind.

"Well thanks," I laugh and tap his goblet with mine, "but actually my life was dull before…"

"Before?"

I feel the words bubble up in my mind and I could tell him but it would terrify him, and he doesn't need that kind of mind boggling information. I feel a cold sweat break on me and my stomach sinks, oh I feel sick, yea I'm gonna be sick! I stagger to my feet and clasp my hand over mouth as I dart into the gardens, fresh air, I need air, I can't think of before, it is just too much.

I reach a stone railing and lean against it, breathing in deeply and attempting to shove the memories back into the very depths of my new sharper mind, why must I recall the details in such clarity? I don't know how long passes because I cannot untangle myself from my mind, as it forces me to remember my supposed death over and over again. But then I feel something warm and strong press against my quivering hand, I startle and blink at the long hand covering mine, the hand is gloved, with only the fingers showing as they curve around mine, as they stretch I see the scars creeping over the knuckles and I sigh. I drop my gaze as I turn to face the owner of that hand, and his distorted image, I have no right to be so selfish and dramatic when he has suffered much more grievously than I ever have.

"I am sorry," I mumble and clutch my forehead with my free hand, "I have no reason to be so unreasonable."

"You have every reason," is Thranduil's simple reply. When I don't answer and just shake my head in disagreement, he continues. "Clara if you passed from life to death and then returned again than that is no simple thing. You cannot simply be expected to recover from that; the questions you must have? You have been changed that much is apparent."

"You are very wise," I chuckle and realise that there are tears in my eyes and a sob in my voice.

"No not wise, I speak from experience and years of idiotic misadventures," he smiles encouragingly and I snort out a tearful laugh. "Sit Clara and listen if you will?"

I nod and sit down on the edge of the low stone wall with him, he is silent for a long time and appears to be contemplating his words, but eventually he speaks;

"I do not remember exactly what possessed me to attempt to distract a fire drake," he laughs coldly and keeps his eyes diverted; "But I know it was not orders, you see I do not follow orders very well, in fact I think I remember being explicitly told to retreat."

"You really don't have to tell me this!" I whisper the anxiety saturating my voice as I see that this is upsetting him, but he shakes his head and holds up a hand to silence me.

"I remember knowing with absolute certainty I was going to die, and that clarity was very frightening, I realised in that instant I was selfish. I had recklessly put myself in the line of the dragons fire without pausing to consider the repercussions of my actions, I was blinded by the need to be victorious there would be no evil servant of the darkness that would overpower my kin; I would die first before I would allow it. However in that second when death was certain, I realised I had left behind a son that did not ask to be brought into this world parentless, and I despaired for the pain I would cause. Yet somehow, and hear me when I say that for the briefest lapse in time I was dead, the light returned and I awoke to the stark reality of my actions."

Thranduil let's go of my hand to raise his own towards the light of the lantern overhead, he removes his glove to better examine the scars and then tentatively touches his healing face. Then to my shock lets out a gentle laugh and points to his shadowed eye;

"Do you know I still cannot create tears from this eye, sometimes I wonder if I ever will? They told me I shall see again; that I shall heal physically because that is the natural course, the life of Eldar restores the broken, but it cannot erase the memories or the horrors. So you see Clara even if the scars fade and all appears well on the surface, it still does not diminish the inner turmoil; I will always be scarred and I will always know the fear of death. I am ruined for I cannot go back to what I was."

"What were you?" I hear myself asking when I shouldn't, but he turns to give me a soft smile;

"Young and foolish; I drank too much and I brawled too much. I believed I was untouchable and desirable, I took for granted the lifestyle that I had, my health and my strength. Like you said when first we met; 'what a long way to fall,' and it was. I cannot stand to see ellith give me pity filled looks or ellyn ashamedly divert their eyes when I cannot see to draw a bow correctly!"

I cannot answer for a while; I just sit there and pretend to be very interested in the palms of my hands, when in reality I am trying to force the words out of my mouth. This is the second time Thranduil has shared part of himself with me, and I realise this is in attempt to reach me and I cannot fathom why he would want to help me? Well that is a lie, I think I know why, I think maybe I am probably the only one that can at least relate to him on some level, and he craves that, hell I crave that!

"I fell," I say suddenly and feel his eyes bore into me, "Well I cannot explain the full ins and outs of how I fell because it would be strange to you. But I kind of toppled over a mountainside, it was an accident, I was in a bad mood and I had to get away and I lost track of time, and the weather was so bad I couldn't see! And I frightened someone and in the panic I crashed, I didn't mean too and I wasn't ready to die! I had lived in the shadow of the mistakes of my parents, I had worked so hard to separate myself from them and I was on the brink of doing that, I was going to be free to get away and live my own life. Yet when I was certain I was going to die it all just seemed like I had wasted my life trying to prove everyone wrong, I was miserable and lonely just so I could prove I could do it on my own, that I didn't need anyone! But all I ever succeeded in doing was to leave nothing behind but a bad memory of a strange girl who was easily forgotten, because I never did anything to endear people to me, I left nothing of myself to be missed."

There I said it and I shut my eyes tight, expecting him to laugh and tell me I was wasting his time with my sob story, he had been through worse. Thranduil fought in a battle for freedom, he had a son and a father to miss him, and an entire race of people that would grieve his absence; I had nothing!

"Then your kin are fools," comes his serious reply and I twist my head to look at him. "For if they could not see the light they had before them then they did not deserve it! Maybe that is why you have come to be here?"

"How am I any better here?" I ask incredulously and he glares at me with a look that is nearly furious, I instantly shrink away.

"Clara look at what you have achieved in a few short months!" he cries and gestures in the general vicinity of the longue, obviously to were Legolas slumbers; "You gave my son hope in dark times, you mended our bond with your bizarre behaviours. Oliel sings your praises and Aradan is smitten with you and he is not the only one!"

"Yea right!" I snort and roll my eyes, "Aradan was just being kind, and I highly doubt there is anyone else so you can stop lying!"

"I am not lying!" Thranduil almost hisses in his frustration with me and I laugh.

"Then who?" I tease knowing full well he will come up with no-one for it is a laughable notion, I am considered just as strange and as quirky here as I was before, Thranduil himself even said it!

"I…well I…Clara stop asking infantile questions and just believe what you are told for a change!" he snaps and seems a little flustered with the conversation, well he is right I am changing the subject and I can be a little childish.

"I am sorry," I sigh and take his scarred hand in mine; "I appreciate what you are doing, what you have done for me Thranduil! You are giving me a second chance, and I swear I will not waste it!"

"I am doing no more for you than you have already done for my son and I," he replies and he smiles fondly at me, with that same adoring look that I cannot understand from earlier in the day. "Whatever I can do for you, I will do it!"

"I don't understand how you can call yourself ruined," I mutter and shake my head, "You are not scarred on the inside, and I really don't see the physical ones anymore, stop beating yourself up!"

"That is very kind of you but you are clearly blind if you cannot see this vile and monstrous mess of a face, and I cannot even look at my body it disgusts me! So spare me and stop ly-"

I don't know what on earth came over me but I lean forward and place a kiss on his tattered cheek, just a little friendly peck nothing grand or showy because I don't know if the sensation could cause him pain, after all the skin is so fragile. I just want him to know I don't pity him, I respect him and that I really don't care about the scars, we all have flaws! Thranduil stares at me with a dazed expression that is almost worrying, because I don't know if I crossed a line or if that actually hurt him;

"I didn't hurt you did I?" I gasp and go to apologise but he cuts me off.

"No! But I do not understand…why?"

"Just so you know that I am not lying, you are not a mess and I do not pity you!"

I giggle when I see the briefest flash of colour hint across his right cheek; Thranduil is usually so composed that a blush is a major issue for him. He works hard to hide it but he knows I saw and shakes his head at me. For a moment we sit in silence, but I watch as he lifts my hand to his lips and he places a kiss on my palm. Now it is my turn to flush pink because the action seems so personal and intimate, it does not help that he can see into my soul with that other worldly gaze that he has perfected so well.

"Your highness?"

Both of us start at the sound of the unexpected voice that is coming from a stern looking Raffyn, oh blast it all I forgot he lived here too! Thranduil gives me a defeated smile and places my hand back on my knee, before turning to look questioningly at his father's right hand man.

"Raffyn?"

"The King is requesting your presence immediately," Raffyn bows and the sighs; "He is not happy Thranduil you are testing his patience."

"He is never happy Raffyn you of all elves should know this!" Thranduil laughs breezily and stands to his feet, I quickly do the same and go to help him retrieve the slumbering Legolas from his cushion fort come bed.

As I helpfully hoist Legolas into Thrandui's expectant arms, I pat his little head and smile fondly; he is so perfect when he sleeps. Thranduil whispers a goodnight to me and turns to make his exit, both Raffyn and I see them off and I find myself grinning like a Cheshire cat after them both, what a wonderful and surprising day it has been. I turn to walk back to the mess of a living space that needs tidying but find Raffyn blocks my way, I glance up at his indifferent gaze and smile in confusion;

"Can I help you?" I ask timidly.

"He is a prince of elves Clara," Raffyn states evenly and I feel my breathing accelerate; "He is heir to the throne of this Kingdom, if the King should so wish to pass on his crown. He was joined before to a high elven lady of Lindon, an elleth of power and beauty."

"I know!" I answer as my brows knit in confusion at the statement.

"Then remember it!" he snipes haughtily and strides off but not before swiftly ordering me to clean up the disaster zone which is the living area.

I dislike that guy, he is so uptight and bossy and oh, I feel like not cleaning the place just to prove I am no servant! So what is he saying, I am not good enough to play with the prince, he doesn't even know me? I could be some runaway Queen for all he knows, some eastern beauty…okay fair enough tall, blonde and grey eyed doesn't actually scream exotic eastern beauty, but that is not the point!

Huffily I storm about the longue and clean it at an angry pace until eventually I collapse on my bed and stare at the ceiling for several minutes before I start to laugh. Why am I letting Raffyn's comments bother me? Yes I know Thranduil is a prince and I am not so stupid as to pursue something like that, I mean it is ridiculious, utterly impossible and not even an inclination. Yet something about that realisation upsets me, I guess I am little caught up on the events of the day and how easy our friendship developed. Well I can't dwell on it, I am old and wise enough to know not to get caught up in a fantasy. Today was a good day and I need to hold onto that, and not over analyse it, I need to just live each day at a time.

xXx

The weeks pass with routine and everyday life becoming the norm, I haven't returned to the woods yet and I do not ask too. Thranduil is really pushing himself at his training; I know this because I barely see him, and if I do it is briefly and he always looks exhausted. He tells me he will when he finds a moment, and Legolas has not forgotten his promise but life has a way of taking over and making things dull again. Yet it is in the dull and mundane things that I find the most joy, just living here in this place gives me a renewed sense of purpose and peace in life.

Today is like any other Thursday afternoon, after having the morning to myself I must go and retrieve Legolas from his chambers, and rescue him from the demon headmistress Ithril. So I practically skip along the corridors humming pleasantly to myself, enjoying the lovely lavender and honeysuckle scent of the hallways. I soon spy the little blonde head in the distance and my heart lightens;

"Hey buddy!" I grin as I skip playfully up to Legolas, I note the little frown etched in his face and am abruptly worried. "Did you enjoy your lessons today?"

Legolas shuffles towards me, this very much our day to day routine, but he seems upset which is not part of the routine. Usually Ithril finishes her tutoring around noon and I am ready and waiting to take over, with obviously the much more fun and essential lessons of life. For instance today I was planning on teaching Legolas the art of folding laundry, well as I see it Oliel did a lot of washing and sheets are a pain to fold yourself, so I should at least instil some domestic life skills into this little princeling. If only to ensure he doesn't turn out like his father, who literally freaked out a few evenings ago when Legolas dropped wine all down his lovely, sparkly, new, olive green tunic. When I handed him lemon juice, soap and a scrubbing brush, he looked at me like I had six heads and started roaring for Oliel, it was quite funny. But I think folding sheets is off the card with this little munchkin's sad face;

"Legolas?" I query as I kneel down beside him and catch his little hand in mine; "What is it kiddo?"

"Nothing," he mumbles and sighs, I rub my thumb over the tops of his hands and suddenly feel the rise in the skin, like a welt or mark? I pull back his sleeve and quite clearly see the faintest bruise like markings, what in the hell is this?

"Sweetie where'd you get this?" I ask and give him a very serious look.

"It is because I cannot sit still, I must not fidget," he replies and I go cold.

"Did Ithril do this because you could not sit still?" I am trying to be calm but I my voice is becoming increasingly shrill. He nods and I feel my jaw tighten; "Does she do this a lot?"

"Only if I misbehave," he murmurs and starts to sob; "Do not tell Ada, I promise I will be better."

"I know you will," I say calmly and plant my hands on his shoulders; "Just stay here a moment darlin' I will be right back."

I see red, like an angry mist descends on my vision, everything is a bit hazy and I'm not quite in control of myself at this point. Usually I do not speak to Ithril, she glides in and out of rooms and does not acknowledge me, I am of course beneath her station but I will be damned if I allow her to lay a finger on this little boy! I shove open the door in which Legolas exited out of and waltz straight up to that prissy little know it all with all the fury of a swarm of bees, she is dead totally dead! I will beat her myself just to see how she likes it!

"Excuse me?" She questions indignantly in her haughty tone.

"Excuse me is right!" I shriek, "Do you mind explaining why Legolas has bruising on his hand?"

"Not to you I do not," she sniffs and continues on shuffling through papers on the desk.

"Well if you won't explain it to me I will happily go get his father and you can explain it to him!" I threaten but she just laughs and looks at me with a pitiful look.

"I do not think his highness has time to be bothered indulging the incessant wailing of a common she elf," she replies breezily and my blood reaches boiling point.

"How dare you!" I hiss vehemently and step closer to her; "You will answer me, I am the child's caretaker, appointed by his father to personally ensure the safety of his son! I would be very careful who you call common!"

This makes Ithril blink in shock and she actually looks a little dumbfounded, I don't think anyone has ever spoken to her in such a way, good I am glad I burst her perfect little bubble!

"Legolas received a slap to the back of his hand for not remaining composed," she replies with not even the hint of regret; "It is an effective punishment."

"Seriously? You think it is okay to slap an infant for not being able to sit still?" I growl and she simply nods. I am about to rip her head off or at least verbally assault her for her stupidity but a booming voice quietens us both.

We both turn to see the King standing with a less than impressed look, Ithril bows almost instantly and I watch her with disgust, what a suck up! It is not until Oropher glides towards me and watches me expectantly that I realise I should probably kneel too, so I do.

"If there is a disagreement here then let it be resolved for I have little patience for it," he speaks almost like a sigh, and waits for one of us to respond.

"I found a bruise on Legolas' hand!" I say urgently, "Ithril states she hit him for fidgeting during lessons."

"As a form of punishment sire," she replies and bows deeply again, "If this displeases you I shall stop."

"If the boy cannot behave himself then by all means do what you must Ithril," Oropher states coolly and turns his gaze on me; "Is this punishment unreasonable to you Clara?"

"Yes!" I shout rather boldly, "he is just a child!"

Oropher nods once before answering; "But a child must learn to compose themselves and act appropriately. Legolas is a child that is true but what will be demanded off him requires discipline and self-control, things that are not easily taught. If Lady Ithril feels it appropriate she can punish him justly. Do not let his crocodile tears manipulate you Clara, I am sure Ithril had her reasons, though your concern greatly touches me, but do not concern yourself with the matter."

I want to protest, I want go with my gut and say I don't like Ithril and neither does Legolas but I know it will just be ignored. So instead we curtsey again and the King goes to leave but Ithril bursts into a full elvish conversation with him, and the two walk off together, but not before she manages to give me a victorious smirk, I loathe her I really do! With a defeated sigh I go find Legolas and vow to do whatever he wants to do today, but I will find a way to tell Thranduil maybe he will listen to my concerns.

I find the little cutie peering around the dark mahogany doorways, watching me warily, I sigh dejectedly at him but he gives me a small smile in return and stretches out to take my hand. Well I tried and I think he knows that. In silence we amble along the warren like hallways and corridors until I decide that there is no need to remain glum;

"So what would you like to do today?" I ask pleasantly and Legolas peers at me questioningly, as of late I have not allowed him to dictate how the days are spent, just so he realises I am in charge but he is generally a very respectful kid.

"Can I see my Ada please?" he asks softly and I frown at him, he knows full well his father is busy but I can't really deny him what he wants after the day he has had.

"I think he is training kiddo, and I don't really know where that is?" I reply as gently as I can.

"I do!" he turns to me with a hopeful look, "Can we Clara please, I will not be a nuisance I promise!"

I bite my lip and consider the implications of such a request, technically I should not be bothering Thranduil on a day to day basis. I was informed by Raffyn that the rules are simple; I only disturb the Prince if the need is urgent, and the same goes for Legolas, but I don't think Thranduil puts much stock in these rules. So I agree and allow Legolas to lead the way, well I am already in trouble for ruffling up Ithril, may as well go the whole hog and be a thorn in everyone's side.

After quite a long trek through some strange hallways and pavilions we reach some sort of barracks type place, I assume only because of the wide variety of weaponry and uniformed elves. Most are elven men but there are some women too, tough looking chicks, quite intimidating actually, I will never be that awesome. They are all giving me strange looks but most seem to give Legolas, acknowledging nods as he skips ahead of me with a truck load of confidence and little fear of these scary looking warriors. A familiar tall and fair headed elf strides out from under shadowed archways and smiles broadly at the youngster, Legolas stops instantly and waves energetically.

"Aradan!" he cheers and bolts to the elf's side, the elder elf crouches down and pats Legolas on the head and converses cheerily with him before turning his gaze to me and bobbing his head in respect.

"Lady Clara!" Aradan welcomes me with a light hug and kiss on the cheek, very bold, very confident and I admit I am swooning a little. "What brings you to this dull place?"

"Legolas wanted to see his father," I reply with a blush and shy smile, "He has had a bit of a rough morning."

"Ah I see," Aradan offers me his arm which I hesitantly accept. "Well his highness is over exerting himself as usual."

"Is he duelling Aradan?" Legolas bounces excitedly around us, "Can I watch please like before?"

"Oh Legolas I do not think your Ada would like that," I mutter and glance apologetically to Aradan who snorts and shakes his head.

"By all means little one, maybe your presence will make him take a break for a moment at least!" He exclaims; and I sigh as I am tugged through the darkened archways and into some kind of training arena.

On entering the large hall I can hear the unmistakably grunts and hisses of brawling ellyn, the clank and thud of wooden training weapons, and the occasional curse or cry when someone hits the ground a little too hard. It is an oval hall, large and with all kinds of weapons, both pretend and real lining the walls. There are things that I assume are like weights and punch bags, in essence it is kind of like a medieval gym, and like most gyms I am programmed to feel completely inadequate and feeble in them. Aradan offers me a seat on a stone bench, whilst Legolas watches with vested interest on the side-lines, Aradan hovers between the two of us watching intently.

It takes me a moment to decipher the blurry and acrobatic movements of three elven men, at first they almost appear to be engaged in some sort of dance, but it doesn't take me long to realise they are actually trying to murder each other, or at least severely maim. I am also acutely aware that this appears to be a two on one fight, as the two darker haired elves repeatedly attack the blonde haired one, and I sigh in annoyance because I know exactly who that is. Why is he intent on putting himself through these brutal regimes?

Thranduil ferociously gives back twice as much as he is taking, but I can see the muscle wastage on his left side where he is predominately weaker, and thus tiring quicker. Though it does not seem to dampen his determination and even with two physically fit warriors pulverising him, he is doing surprisingly well. He blocks and parries each of their attacks and even gets a good few digs in, sometimes I have to bite my lip to stop myself from cheering him on. I can't help but feel a tad bit smug, Thranduil is wounded and weaker than these two perfect specimens yet they appear to be having supreme difficulties in beating him back.

One of the elves manage to trip him up with a sneaky blow to his left side, he could not have seen that his eyesight on that side is too poor, liitle git that was dirty, and the other goes to claim the victory. I want to shout in protest and point out the injustice of the whole thing but Legolas beats me to it!

"That was unfair!" he shrieks and turns to Aradan with a furious expression, "They do not deserve that round!"

Aradan winks and I stifle a laugh because it is not quite over yet; Thranduil somehow and in a completely indiscernible movement catches the hilt of his opponent's wooden sword and thrusts into their chest, making him stagger back and fall to the ground. The other attempts to restrain him but gets a nasty head butt and also drops to the ground. Triumphantly Thranduil kicks both their weapons away and turns to seek out his sole supporter, and Legolas wastes no time scurrying across the hall and collides into his father's side with a delighted whoop.

They speak briefly for a moment and I assume by the confused and questioning look on Thranduil's face he is wondering why his son is here, but thankfully he does not look annoyed in the slightest. I don't think my presence has been noticed yet because much to my alarm Thranduil untangles his son from him and peels his sweat drenched tunic from his body. Oh me Oh my where do I look? Why am I looking? Why can't I stop looking? I mean I am practically leering around Aradan to get a good eyeful of him, I feel my eyes widen as I take in the very defined, very muscular body of the prince. It is not that he has the physique of a body builder, absolutely not it is much better; he has strong arms and a broad taut chest and shoulders, with a muscular back. The type of body that could be swift and light but strong and unyielding when needed. For the longest time I did not even notice the vicious scars and mottled skin of his left side, because I think I am so used to seeing his face like that, that I am not horrified by his body. In fact I am quite the opposite; my cheeks are burning that hot that I would not be surprised if I internally combusted in the next sixty seconds, I should be more composed than this it is not like I have not seen a half-naked man before! Get a grip woman, before he sees you!

"He is making vast improvements," Aradan says absently as he turns to look at me, I wriggle and clamp my hand over one half of my face trying to obscure the flushed cheeks, leaning in to appear interested in the conversation.

"Mhmm," I just about manage to reply and thankfully Aradan seems oblivious to my plight, as I still can't help but allow my eyes to periodically sweep over Thranduil, ugh I am such a red blooded female.

"Though I worry he pushes himself too much," Aradan sighs and then smiles fondly at me; "But I guess it is his choice! Anyway I am glad to see you again mellon nin I cannot help but think we got off on the wrong foot so to speak, and I was hoping I may have the opportunity to redeem myself?"

My eyes pop when Thranduil lifts a pitcher of water and playfully tosses some of it over Legolas, but happily pours the rest over himself! Yup he's hot, and not just literally, shit Clara you can't do this! Stop it! Stop looking he is a prince, a father and a friend; stop drooling like an animal and pay attention! It's not like you haven't seen him drenched before, but admittedly he had clothes on but he was kinda hot then too, seriously brain? Shut up!

"Clara?"

"Huh…um yes…sorry…wha- what did you say?" I clear my throat and squirm about on my seat, trying to distract myself.

"Well I was just wondering if you would like to join me for a few social drinks as an apology. You see us guards often meet to dine and relax together, with friends and such; it is nothing formal just good old fashioned merry making! Aradan states and looks a tad bit concerned by my fidgeting, "What do you think Clara, would you come with me?"

"Huh?" Is all I manage to come out with, he isn't serious is he, is this beautiful creature asking me out on a date?

Aradan flusters slightly and drops his gaze; "I was hoping we could build on this friendship Clara, I thought maybe you would feel the same?"

What? Whoa What? I think I need him to repeat this so I can make sure I heard it correctly. The Captain of the elven guard wishes to have my company during an evening of festivities, this is a date! I am shocked and really touched and even a little smug; muhaha Trent I've got a date with an immortal being of grace and splendor, and you've got that tart Lisa, I think we know who won the best upgrade award! Karma's a bitch!

"So what do you say Clara?" Aradan asks again and I blush even deeper than I was before, of course I want too. Though I am a little apprehensive about the whole thing, it will be good for me to get out there and meet people, plus a big fat bonus that I get to be on the arm of this fine noble elf.

"Sure!" I squeak a little too shrilly and this gains the attention of Thranduil and Legolas, who both glance curiously at the sound. Aw crap!

"Clara?" Thranduil gasps a little and awkwardly clamps his arms around his upper body, hurriedly looking for clothing but not trying to be too conspicuous about it.

Aradan notices his struggle and with an amused expression hands him a long robe that has been flung over the bench beside me. Which he swiftly tries to put on, but predictable gets his arms caught in his rush and it just takes a lot longer to get covered up, I divert my gaze upwards and pray for the awkwardness of the situation to just evaporate before I do!

"I did not expect you to be there?" he mutters and shoots Aradan an accusing look, "Maybe you should warn me when you intend to have audiences when I train Aradan?"

"Duly noted my lord," Aradan replies with a smirk, "but in our defense we were not expecting you to strip?"

I cannot help the wild burst of giggles that escapes me and Thranduil frowns furiously at us both, before shaking his head and rising his chin haughtily. I can tell he is not one bit amused at us;

"So what am I interrupting?" Thranduil asks in an attempt to change the subject.

"I was just inquiring if Lady Clara would like to join me tomorrow evening for the gathering?" Aradan replies and with a triumphant nod adds; "And she has agreed."

"She has?" Thranduil stops dead and looks at me with the strangest expression, "And what makes her think she can take just take the night off from her duties?"

"She has a name!" I snap coarsely, how dare he? That's it! All lustful feelings long gone, he just refereed to me as a 'she,' and thinks he can dictate when and who I can socialise with? I mean what kind of ego filled power trip is he on?

"My apologies Clara," he replies through gritted teeth, "But you do have responsibilities and I was not made aware of your intentions, I could require your assistance?"

"And do you?" I ask defiantly and rise up to my full height crossing my arms about my chest, "Am I required to serve you?"

"N..No," Thranduil stutters out and suddenly deflates at my show of defiance, "I just meant…well you should inform me if you wish to take leave it is the respectful thing to do."

"But she is?" Aradan suddenly interjects with a bemused look, "I just asked her a few minutes ago, I am certain she would have given you fair warning. But surely you would not withhold from her the chance to socialise and make connections; it must get terribly lonely for you Clara in those halls all day?"

"Oh I don't mind," I sniff and look away before angrily adding, "After all I am employed to serve his highness! I have no right to complain."

"Is that how you view me?" Thranduil barks and steps forward, there is a glimmer of hurt in his eyes but I don't care; "You believe I view as a mere servant girl?"

"Well you just said as much!" I cry and he jerks away from me, oh hell I can feel tears, nope I am not crying in front of him.

"I could have you punished for speaking to me in such a tone as that!"

"Thranduil!" Aradan warns and steps in between us; "Control yourself! She meant no harm you are the one acting unreasonably!"

"Ada?"

The soft sob has all three of us turn to look at tearful elfling who is tiptoeing towards us;

"Ada do not shout at Clara?" he pleads and comes to stand between us like Aradan, only he holds his little hand up as a peaceful gesture to his father; "Don't send her away please, she is our friend."

There is a long strained minute of silence, as we all engage in a stare off and Legolas continues to whimper softly. His tears upset me greatly, I had brought him here to try and make his day better but I have made it inherently worse. Thranduil and Aradan are still silently squaring up to each other when I break the trance and start to walk away;

"Clara?" Legolas cries and runs to my side taking my hand forcefully; "Clara do not go, Ada does not mean to shout."

"I know sweetpea I know," I reply softly already struggling with my own tears, "But you just go play with your Ada for a little while, and I will wait for you in the garden we passed on the way in? Hmm is that okay?"

Legolas looks like he is about to argue but Thranduil calls him back to his side, and with one last pleading look he does as he is bid. I feel my jaw tighten as I turn back to glance at the Prince, his face expressionless and void of any emotion;

"I will be in the nearby garden, please summon me when you require my presence my lord." I say dryly and curtsey, it hurts me slightly that my tone does not even make Thranduil flinch he simply nods his head and turns his back to me. With the last of my resolve wavering I turn on my heel and practically run out of the barracks, a single tear streaking down my cheek.

I don't know why I am so upset over Thranduil's attitude with me, because in reality I do serve him and I do have responsibilities. I just thought our friendship was more than that, I never in a million years expected him to act so controlling over me. It seems I misjudged our fledging friendship, obviously I am too relaxed around him maybe he feels I am not giving him his place? Still he did not have to be so cold, I thought of all people he would have encouraged me to go with Aradan and enjoy myself for the night. Was he not the one to say Aradan was smitten with me? I don't think I can cope with his bi-polar mood swings, and I will not be answerable to someone again. I am going to go with Aradan to this gathering thing, and I am going to have fun, and live a little! So am not solely dependent on the charity of that bloody Prince!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gulp* I think they messed up


	10. Chapter 10

"Clara! Oh my goodness Clara look!"

Oliel is twirling in giddy circles as she dives through my bed chamber doors, I shriek and wrap the towel tighter around my body, does she ever knock? She brandishes a bouquet of colourful tulips and I gaze curiously at them;

"Where'd you get them from?" I ask innocently and she sighs dramatically.

"They are for you!" she practically sings and drops them into my arms; "Captain Aradan had one of the guards deliver them here just a moment ago, he wanted to let you know he will collect you at sunset! Oh is this not just so incredibly romantic!"

"Um Ollie we are just going dancing, it is not like he is proposing or something?" I giggle and place the flowers aside, they are very pretty and I am rather touched, how very thoughtful.

"Oh hush up you are ruining the vision in my head," she mutters and starts rummaging through the pathetic contents of my wardrobe dispensed on my bed. "Clara what are you going to wear?"

"I don't know," I sigh as I stare into a mirror and mess about with my hair; "Something from that pile anyway."

"I simply will not have it!" Oliel shouts and I jump.

"Huh?"

"You will not wear these rags, you are the guest of the Captain for the evening and I want all the elves to notice you not him!"

"Well I don't have anything that is that daring?"

"But I do!"

And with that Oliel exits the room and returns moments later with a dress, I attempt to ask her where she got it but she shakes her head and refuses to answer me. Instead she shoves me down on a chair and sets about working her magic on my hair and skin. She proclaims that in her hands I will steal the show, and I don't know whether to be excited or terrified by the prospect.

After a few hours of pampering, brushing and no small amount of bickering I am ready, and not just Clara ready, but Oliel perfectionist ready. She guides me to a floor length mirror within her own immaculate chambers, admittedly making me feel guilty for my slightly disarray bedroom, and twirls me in front of it.

I gasp at my reflection, because truly I don't think I have looked so…so…incredible before? The gown is made up of two parts; a shimmering silvery underdress that catches the light, and over the top of this a high collared, almost peacock in colour, fitted gown. The sleeves of the outer gown come to my elbow, were the long and trailing sleeves of the silvery gown poke through and fall down my arms to the floor. It is buttoned and laced in all the right places, and daringly low cut, or at least for elves. And my goodness what a cleavage it gives me, I mean I realise I have a healthy rack but hello where did these come from? My hair is loose except for the upper half which is gently pinned back from my face, accentuating my long neck and making my face more visible. Oliel has also woven some small blue flower through my hair, which just complete the look entirely.

"What do you think?" she grins triumphantly at her handiwork.

"I think you are gifted Oliel, and I think I am in love with you!" I cry and she gives me a befuddled look. "Never mind, but I do love it thank you so much!"

"Anything for my Clara," she smiles and hugs my shoulders. "Now come on it is after sunset Aradan will be here soon!"

xXx

I feel very nauseous and a little freaked out, I forgot how much I don't do social gatherings, I forgot how I am a bit of an idiot and socially dysfunctional. However Aradan has been nothing but a supreme gentleman or elf, is there such a term as gentleelf? I think I shall just have to invent it. From the moment he collected me and right up until this point, he has been so thoughtful and complimenting. He was suitably blown away by my appearance and seamlessly keeps conversation flowing with ease. Aradan himself is dressed very finely in brown and golden robes, though I reckon he could wear a bin bag and still look like a Calvin Klein underwear model! Beautiful, beautiful elven man that he is, but I am ashamed to admit that I don't feel anything. Like I should be swooning, my heart should be pounding at the idea that this god like creature is obviously interested in me, but meh I don't feel the urge to faint in his presence. Maybe I am sick? Don't get me wrong, he is stunning and so funny, caring and thoughtful, but I just don't get it I don't feel attracted to him, weird just weird!

The gathering of these young, in terms of elves, spirited and jovial crowd of elves is actually in the woods, in the shadow of the King's halls. For a very fun and exciting period, Aradan and I stride through the wood, as if seeking out a hidden place that only those in the know can find. The small glade is brightly lit and busting to the seams with riotous and merry elves, some already completely intoxicated on the free flowing wine. There is a large fire pit in the centre, blazing with dancing flames that capture me, and the music is wild and rustic, it reminds me of the ceilidhs/Kaylees* of home. My heart is pounding and my body tingling with the excitement and nerves, I want to let go and have fun but I also don't want to make a complete eejit out of myself. Be brave Clara, be brave, you have your second chance now live it!

It is hard to hear over the din but Aradan makes gestures to me asking if I want a drink and I nod enthusiastically, he smiles and disappears, leaving me alone in the mass of crazy elves. Some speak to me and others just smile and nod, but soon I find I am making my way through the throngs, introducing myself and laughing at the easy going vibe of the evening. Aradan returns with my wine and he begins introducing me properly to his friends, I am fitting in at least, and all who I meet seem genuinely interested in me. I am also quite chuffed that I get lots of appreciative glances from the opposite sex, even enough to make Aradan stick a lot closer to me. God bless Oliel, I owe her so much!

Soon the dancing is in full swing and I have had a few twirls around the fire pit come dance floor, but I eventually insist on taking a break. Aradan tries to stay with me but he is in high demand and I want him to enjoy himself, so I encourage him to carry on, I can amuse myself for a bit. I drain the last of my wine glass and decide to go on the hunt for some more, so I start ploughing through the crowd, and more than once bash into people but no one seems to mind much. Eventually I find the wine kegs; I fill up and spin on my heel only to collide with another, mercifully I save my dress and the elf's tunic.

"Ugh I am so sorry!" I cry! I was close to being graceful so close, dammit! "I am the biggest clutz."

"Clara?"

The voice makes me stop and I squint upward at the face of the stranger and then gasp;

"Thranduil?" I ask in surprise as I observe him, dressed quite finely in his silvers and emerald greens, "I mean…your highness what a surprise?"

"Is it really?" he replies stiffly and causally pushes past me to fill his own glass; "I thought I told you to call me Thranduil, are we not friends?"

"I don't know are we?" I say rather boldly, this is not going to end well I've downed goodness knows how much wine, so I will most likely say whatever comes to mind without thinking. "I mean I have seen nothing of you since I left you at the barracks, and not even an apology for your words, I don't really consider that friendly behaviour."

"Then I am sorry!" he snaps and bangs his glass down, "There I said it now can we abandon this ridiculous standoff."

"You could at least mean it!" I hiss and attempt to storm off but he follows, seriously will I never get to exit dramatically with this elf; "What Thranduil what do you want?"

"I did mean it!" he growls and slides in front of me, "I apologise I was just feeling a little abandoned."

"Abandoned?" I snort and raise my eyebrow. "Care to elaborate?"

"No not really," is his stupid reply, so I sigh and try and side step him. "Alright I was jealous!"

"Of what?" I exclaim and exasperatedly wave my arms about my head, sloshing the last of my wine out of my glass.

"Of Aradan and you, and losing you to the affections of someone else," he mutters and I frown at him, "I do not like to share, it is a fault I understand but please can you forgive me?"

"Sometimes your son shows more maturity than you!" I snap and drop my gaze. If I look in those alluring eyes I will give in to the temptation, it is far too easy for me to forgive him!

"I know he does!" Thranduil sighs and with a defeated shrug gazes out at the dancing crowd, but a spark of an idea lights his face and he turns those glittering eyes on me, dammit I looked! "Will you dance with me?"

"You know one dance is not going to make it better Thranduil!" I say resolutely, "You were a real jerk!"

"I do not know what that means but I probably deserve it," he almost whines and I can't help the chuckle that escapes my lips at his confused expression.

"Yes you do!" I laugh and he manages a small hopeful smile, "Alright one dance."

I am so weak, I should be ashamed of myself, but I let Thranduil lead me into the dancing crowd. It is a fast paced tune, and suddenly picks up its passion and aggression as we start to dance. I have no idea what I am doing and I am literally depending on Thranduil to not let me fall or drop me in a heap on the ground.

"I don't know this dance?" I shout over the wild drums and pipes. In honesty I know none of the dances and I doubt busting out the moves to 'all the single ladies,' is socially acceptable here!

"It is just music!" he calls back and grips me a little too close for just friends, "Dance what you feel, that is all you have to do."

"Since when are you a dancer?" I laugh as he spins me again.

"I am not a dancer," is his reply as he pulls me in close again and whispers in my ear; "I just like to cause a scene."

The thrill of the music, the sound of his deep voice in my ear sending shivers up my spine, and the giddiness of the wine just tips me over the edge. I always loved dancing and music, I loved the freedom of it and the passion, so without a second thought I let him lead me in the most daring display I have ever attempted. I am somewhat aware the dancing crowd has dispersed for us, and that we are the only two engaged in this verging on passionate display. Elves are clapping and cheering, I hear our names and I completely forget that I even came here with another. I am completely focused on the music and Thranduil, how he touches me and how he easily lifts and twirls me, this is intoxicating I have never felt more desirable in my whole life. The music reaches its crashing finale and Thrnaduil easily hoists my leg around his hip and drops me down low, before pulling me achingly slow to be just inches from his face. Breathless, shaking and I can definitely feel his heart hammer against mine; I stare into his eyes, those strange indescribable azure eyes and I know in that instant I am on the brink of falling. It was him, it was always him and I really don't think I have ever felt this passion for another being before; it is terrifying and amazing all at once but how could he ever feel the same way?

I think he realises we have been engrossed in each other just a tad longer than socially acceptable and he slowly pulls me upright. I divert my eyes and he takes a settling breath, we cannot pretend that this never happened, everyone saw, and I mean everyone, and oh shit Aradan! I spy him leaving and my stomach hits the ground. I glare accusingly at Thranduil and rip across the distance between Aradan and myself, he did not deserve that.

"Aradan?" I call breathlessly as I just about catch him, he stops on the brink of a carven set of archways that lead into the caves; "Aradan wait! I am so sorry!"

"Clara stop! It is alright," he turns and places a comforting hand on my shoulder, but there is sadness in his eyes that betrays his breezy tone. Oh I am a super bad person and I hate myself I really do, I swore I would never play with another's affections like others had played with mine.

"Please," I sob, "Don't say that, I was cruel, I should not have allowed that to happen!"

"Well I admit I am little heartbroken," Aradan makes a show of clutching his chest in dismay and I give a strained chuckle; "But I cannot compete with that, I know when the better elf has won."

"Please believe me that I did not mean for that to happen," I beg and keep my fingers crossed that he doesn't hate me for this.

"I believe you!" he laughs and swings an arm around me; "You looked more shocked than I up there! But Clara he is a prince, do you know what you are getting yourself into?"

"Yes I know," I sigh and shake my head; "Which is why nothing can happen."

"Why not?" is Aradan's shocking reply and he laughs at my gobsmacked expression; "Thranduil is my friend and a good ellon, he deserves happiness, though I still say you are too good for him."

"But you said he was a Prince?" I just about manage to say and cock my head goofily to the side.

"Yes so it will be difficult, Princes have demanding lifestyles, especially when they have fathers like our Good King Oropher," Aradan smirks. "Clara he likes you, I would wager even a little more than that, I knew from his reaction the other day at the barracks. I still hoped I was in for a chance, but I see now that was folly."

"You are far too gracious," I mumble and drop my gaze; "You are far too good for me."

"Nonsense," he laughs and gives me hug and a peck on the cheek; "Just remember this much mellon nin, if he makes one wrong move I will be right there to take his place, and that is a promise. But may I ask did you have a good time tonight?"

"Yes," I reply shyly. "Thank you for introducing me to your friends, though I hope I have not offended them by my terrible behaviour?"

"No Clara I think they loved your, how would you say, energetic display?" We both chuckle but he sighs and with a serious look adds; "You can count my friends as yours Clara, you will always be welcome with us and I do hope this is not the last we see of you? Just because Thranduil may have stolen your affections does not mean I will let him steal our friendship so easily!"

"I am just glad we have still have a friendship!" I say with relief and he laughs loudly at my pained expression.

"You worry yourself too much mellon nin! How could I not cherish a friendship with you, I would be a terrible elf if I did not!"

And with that said Aradan bows swiftly and with his easy going carefree smile leaves me to my thoughts, my crazy spinning confused thoughts. I walk over to the beautiful marble ledge that overlooks the woods, and watch the crowds dancing merrily, my eyes focused on the dancing flames from the fire pit in the distance. I lay my head on the pillar and breathe deeply, what am I going to do?

"How much trouble are you in?"

I smile fondly at his voice and let out a soft chuckle; "Heaps and heaps."

"I can hit him for you if you want, threaten him a little?"

"No it is quite alright," I reply and turn to face my very familiar prince, with his damaged face, and shimmering eyes. "I think though he might hit you."

"Yes well I probably deserve that," he chuckles and takes a timid step towards me.

"We both do," I sigh and shake my head; "You do realise we are playing with fire here?"

"I know," is his quiet reply as he takes a step closer, so he is within touching distance of me; "But I do not see it that way."

"How do you see it?" I ask and register my voice is caught in my throat, and my heart has magically forgotten how to work.

"I see this as a gift, a second chance, and you?"

I cannot speak nor do anything, as he uses the back of his hand to brush away loose strands of my hair over my shoulder. I shudder at his touch, his feather light touch and close my eyes attempting to catch my breath and find the words to reply with. His hand rests on my cheek for a moment and then slips to the back of my neck, gently forcing my head upwards and pulling me closer to him. His thumb continuing to stroke the part of my cheek that is simply ablaze, his lips inches from mine and I am practically drunk on his sweet breath. I allow my eyes to flutter open, only to have my breath stolen away again by the strange adoring look I have seen a handful of times before;

"I should have let this happen that day in the woods," he mumbles, "but then I was not sure what you really wanted, I still cannot be certain?"

His lips graze mine like they had before, and just like before I freeze, but this time he does not accept that as my answer and playfully taps my nose with his and grins at my shocked expression. He has my attention now; he has figured out that he actually needs to force me to respond much like he has to do with all our other little adventures. So this time when his lips meet my mine I respond by forming my own around his, I can feel his victorious smile through the kiss and when we pull apart he looks like he has just hit the jackpot, and I can't help my nervous giggle.

His comical grin fades and is replaced by something else a little more serious, and a little more demanding. I like this look and without another word he captures my lips again a little more forcefully. The hand clutching my neck pulls me closer, and his other hand weaves around my waist crushing me against him. Boldly I clasp the left side of his face in my hand and use my other to grab a fistful of his platinum locks. I let my tongue explore the scarred section of his lips but I don't get to for long, Thranduil takes that as a hint to make the kiss deeper and I don't protest. He presses my back up against the marble pillar and for several unrestrained minutes we just get lost in the passion of this one kiss. I have kissed guys before, I've had drunken fumbling's and passionate moments before, but nothing like this? I used to laugh and sneer at those silly little girls who gushed over a kiss, who claimed to see stars and fall in love in a moment, a kiss was a kiss sure it could be good but not that good. I take it all back, because I have never been kissed like this before, I don't just see stars I see fireworks and I can't focus on anything but him and how he touches me, I don't even remember where I am? I am practically intoxicated when he stops; my head is light and my breathing irregular;

"You cannot know how long I have waited for this," he sighs breathlessly and rests his forehead against mine. "I was just too much of a coward."

"I agree with you," I gasp out and steal another kiss from him which he gladly gives. "You are a coward."

He frowns playfully at me and shakes his head; I giggle at his disapproving glare but regret it entirely when a challenging look crosses his features. He ducks his head and plants the lightest kiss on my collarbone, and then another on the vulnerable stretch of skin where the neck and shoulders meet, he pulls the collar of my dress back to expose more of my neck and continues to make his way up it with light as butterfly wings kisses. I let out the tiniest shocked gasp, when he runs his lips along the contour of my ear; my stomach flips and it is like a hundred butterflies have all decided to explode in my gut, he is barely touching me and my knees are weak and my heart is practically grinding through my chest. I feel my fingers curl tightly around the fabric of his tunic and I really fight the urge to just let my eyes roll back in my head and give in, but oh how I want too!

"Am I a coward now?" He whispers in my ear and I shiver.

"Nope!" I yelp and his chuckle brings me back to reality, oh for goodness sake! Really that's it? Oh he how he enjoys manipulating me, and oh how I love it!

Thranduil pulls away from my ear and plants his last kiss on my forehead; it is soft and sweet, the perfect way to draw this romantic embrace to a close. I sigh half with regret and half with satisfaction, I could happily just stay here like this all night but I guess others would notice. He straightens up and for a few blissful moments we just stay locked in a warm embrace, but the sky is lightening ever so slightly, though sunrise is still a few hours away, it is late and the festivities have come to an end, I have to go back. So in an understanding silence Thranduil laces his fingers through mine and leads me home, we don't speak because I am not sure if either of us knows what exactly to say? We don't know what we are doing and we certainly don't know how this is going to work? The only thing I am sure of is that I cannot go back now, I am teetering on the edge of no return and I know I am going to happily fall for this elf, and I have no want or idea of how to stop myself!

When we reach my familiar hallways, and the homely ivy covered archway that signifies my front door, I stop and sigh. I don't want this to end because if it does then I don't know what to do with myself? I had to go and make this complicated didn't I? Oh Clara you silly girl!

"Well I guess this is goodnight then?" I say with a happy sigh and go to let go of his hand to wander off.

"Clara!" Thranduil cries and tugs me back towards him so he can kiss me gently on the lips one more time. He laughs at my dazed expression almost in a teasing way; I clearly amuse him with my inability to function at present.

"You know," I mumble against his cheek as he holds on to me for a moment longer; "I've got this niggling inclination that you planned this tonight? I don't believe you just happened to be at the same venue as Aradan and I?"

He doesn't answer straight away but attempts to disguise a wry smile; "Would you be angry if I had?"

"I should but I really don't know how to be," I grumble as he places a kiss on my cheek just too completely destroy any trace of resolve I may have left.

I accept another cuddle and you know he is very good at hugs, extremely talented actually! I wager it is to do with those strong arms they are just so protective and warm, and mmm I could just stay right here but I really have to go.

"So I guess I will see you tomorrow?" I ask hopefully and he nods.

"Goodnight Clara, sleep well, I promise you I will see you tomorrow." He replies quite formally but with a humoured glint to his eye.

"You better," I jest and begin to walk away, though I still blush when he kisses my palm again and lets me go. "Until tomorrow?"

"Until then."

xXx

Oliel finds me outside her bedroom door, with my forehead resting on the lintel post as I pull faces at the wall and wave my hands in all sorts of wild gestures. I have been standing outside her bedchamber for at least forty-five minutes and I don't know why? I guess it is because there is no-one else I can go to for help, and boy do I need help;

"Clara? I thought I heard you outside my door," She squeaks as she clutches her robe around her shoulders; "What in Eru's name are you doing? Have you been crying? What happened?"

"Nooo!" I wail and slap my hands dramatically against my sides; "No! No! No!"

"No what? And why are you banging your head against the post? That is not healthy for you!"

"Kissing Princes is not healthy for me!" I cringe and flatten my nose against the wall, scrunching my eyes shut and awaiting her judgement on my soul.

When there is no reply for several minutes I open one eye and scally at her. Oliel is just staring at me with her mouth hanging open clutching her stupid candle, and stupidly not saying anything, she chooses now to not have anything to say? I blow out a very long sigh and turn my face to look at her, but still clutch the wall for support because I think at any moment I might explode;

"You kissed Thranduil?" she just about manages to stammer out, "and not Aradan? But you left here with Aradan…who invited you but returned with Thranduil…who did not invite you…but kissed you or you him?"

"I think it was a mutual decision on both our parts, but more he kissed me and I didn't say no, or stop him, or in any way attempt to articulate that it was a bad idea!" I whine and roll my eyes; "Okay I am stretching the truth a tiny bit, I kissed him back, a little…okay a lot…alright I equally put as much into the kiss as he did! And now I am here telling you because I don't know what to do because my head is swimming and my stomach is all fluttery, and I just wanna scrunch into a ball and giggle…but then I want to vomit because that was a really stupid thing to do, I mean he is a prince…Ollie he is a prince and I practically assaulted his face! Oh my god what if Oropher finds out? What if Legolas figures something out, because he knows the kid is physic! And then I'll be in trouble and Thranduil will be in trouble, and the King will probably kill me, and then I'll lose my job, my room, my food! I will be thrown into the woods and be expected to live off the land…Ollie I can't even tie my shoes without your help how will eat? This is a disaster; I need to lie down now!"

"Clara breathe in-between sentences!" She murmurs worriedly.

"I can't breathe that is the point!" I wheeze and give her a pained expression, "I stopped breathing about an hour ago, when he kissed me, I am such an idiot! Why did you let me go out you know I am not mentally stable enough to go outside and speak with people? See this is what happens when you leave me to my own devices!"

How much wine did you consume?" Oliel cries as I slide down the wall, but before I can hit the floor she catches me under the arm and drags me into her room, unceremoniously dropping me unto her bed. "Just lie there and give me a minute until I process this!"

I do just that, I lie horizontal across her bed face down, grumbling incoherently every now and again. This only earns me impatient shushing from Oliel as she stalks backwards and forwards, I lift my head to watch here warily and await her final verdict. Eventually she stops with her hands on her hips and gives me a stern look;

"I am not impressed that you callously hurt Captain Aradan with your less than proper behaviour!" She scolds and I wince burying my face back in the bed clothes; "Furthermore I am furious that you waited this long to tell me!"

"Huh?" I frown and peek up at Oliel; "I don't get it?"

"You should have flew in that door and told me everything straight away, and I mean everything!" She cries and collapses on the bed beside me; "This is not something you debate telling you friend!"

"So you are not going to tell me I am insane and deserve punishment?" I query and roll onto my side.

"No!" she giggles and grins at me; "So tell me everything, from the beginning and miss no detail, if I am required to give my expert opinion on the matter I need all the evidence?"

"Ollie he is a prince? Why does this escape you?" I frown, a little concerned that she is missing the point here.

"Irrelevant!" She sniffs and gestures for me to continue, "besides this a much more romantic tale than a silly Captain!"

So I tell her the whole tale, from the party to the dance to the very heated kiss, and she echoes my concerns and joins in on my swooning. I guess she passes the best friend test, because if she was only a friend she would be warning me off my terrible decisions and telling me to be careful, but alas she only encourages me further! As Oliel sees it, this is a very interesting situation and something that has the potential to develop into much more. Her very wise advice is to just go with it and see what happens, after all there is no denying the affections Thranduil and I share for one another. I am in agreement and we decide that there is no point worrying about anything beyond this point, what is done is done and it's not like he declared his undying love or anything. No one is going to find out and why shouldn't I enjoy the thrill of this almost forbidden romance, we are after all adult elves and it is perfectly acceptable to have a little bit of fun with a willing party! By the end of Oliel's counselling session I feel much better and even a bit giddy, but much worn out by all the excitement, so in true sisterly fashion we pass out surrounded by comfort food and empty wine bottles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dare I ask...eeeeppp...did it live up to the expectations?


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the looooong wait everyone. I'm just getting to grips with this website. I hope you forgive me.
> 
> Please enjoy some more chapters and as always let me know what you think?

Chapter 11

When my vision eventually focuses on the ceiling above me, I feel my brows furrow in confusion as I try and work out where the hell I am? I prop myself up on my elbows and blow a strand of my mussed up hair out of my face, oh so elves get hangovers too, lovely! I groan and fall back on Oliel's bed and pull a woollen blanket over my head so I don't have to experience the spinning motion of the walls. Unfortunately my memory is crystal clear; I remember everything and my tummy starts to get all twisted and fluttery again. Good grief I am worse than a giddy school girl, composure Clara, remember you are an adult elleth of grace and elegance…oh who am I kidding! I grin unashamedly and feel a fit of delighted laughter escape my lips as I lift my fingers up to trace them, letting the memories linger. I close my eyes and sigh contentedly but just as I get to the good part of my daydream the door knocks loudly and jump bolt upright in the bed.

"Uh who is it?" I croak, ugh my throat it hurts and I am parched, I could drink a river dry and still be thirsty. There is no answer just another soft but impatient knock, I scowl at the door and absently wonder if this is one of Oliel's tricks to get me out of bed, considering she is not beside me, I hate morning people! Another knock only slightly louder this time, has me cursing and wriggling my way out of the bed sheets;

"Alright I am coming, seriously Ollie if this is some kind of joke I am gonna cheerfully choke you! Have you no sympathy for the poorly?" I whinge as I stagger to the door and haul it open; "And if you even think this is funny I swear I-"

The sensation of chapped but warm lips on mine silences me, the shock of it renders me completely speechless and without the ability to do anything but partially breathe; you know what strike that I cannot even do that. I am dreaming I have to still be dreaming! There is no way Thranduil has decided to be my morning wake up call, but evidently he has;

"Good morning," he murmurs happily in my ear, as I suddenly regain consciousness and realise I am standing in the rumpled and wrinkled remains of last night's dress, with birds nest hair and morning breath, and post alcohol induced coma morning breath at that, I am vile and he is not! Smugly standing there with his smoothed hair scraped back and casual clothes, oh I know these clothes, last time he wore these clothes we went into the woods! Well now it is a good morning!

"Morning," I reply shyly as I attempt to divert my mouth so as not to breathe toxic fumes all over him; "Um what are you doing?"

"Keeping my promise," is his simple reply.

I clear my throat and give him a baffled look; "That is great but um…could you maybe just give me a moment please."

"Why?"

"Just stand there don't move, just stay," I command and make staying gestures with my hands, he gives me a baffled look as I back up and gently begin easing the door closed; "Just do as your told and stay. I promise your patience will be rewarded."

Thranduil is about to open his mouth and protest but he is a little too slow, I get the door shut and the key turned, before I bite my lip and melt into a gooey mess. I let out a bizarre sounding delighted squeak, and rest my forehead on the door, he kept his promise!

"Clara?" Thranduil's voice is very confused and sounds very close to the door; "What are you doing?"

Drowning in the memory of your eyes and swooning at the very sound of your voice;

"Um…making myself presentable!"

Is what I reply with as I peel myself from the door and start faffing about the room looking for something to wear, or wash myself with, or anything that will make me appear more normal looking!

"Why?" He asks, sometimes he sounds like a petulant child with all his questions, but I kind of love it.

I throw myself on the bed and hang over the other end, rummaging through a pile of blankets, I think there is a robe here, I may have a vague memory of Oliel and I prancing around the room in a long rob acting our gracious King pre alcohol coma.

"Because I am not presentable and you can't see me like this!" I call back and there is a perceivable silence, I sit upright and scowl at the door awaiting his sarcastic reply.

"But I just did!" He laughs and I drop my face into the pillow, sighing loudly.

"Yes I know!" Is my muffled reply before I lift my head up to be heard more clearly; "I am trying to recover from that embarrassment. Oh Bingo! I found it!"

"Found what? And what is a bingo?" Thranduil continues to chuckle, well if anything I clearly entertain him; "You are very strange Lirimaer!"

"Quirky, Thranduil, I prefer the term quirky when referring to myself!" I mumble as I quickly locate the wash bowl and slop cold water over my face and body. Oh sweet mother of mercy it is freezing! I curse and gasp frantically, though I choose to ignore the amused titters coming from beyond the door!

Like Lightening I dress and thanks to Oliel's extreme organisation I source a comb, and viola I am passable as a semi-conscious elf being! I trip over the hems of my robe several times before I reach the door, taking a settling breathe, I yank it open to reveal my new improved look;

"Ta-Da!" I exclaim brightly and strike a pose in the door frame, Thranduil gives me a lopsided grin as he leans on the opposite wall, an appreciative look passing over his features for the briefest moment. "Now where were we?"

The lopsided grin turns into a smirk as he approaches me, he outstretches his long and strong hands to take hold of the edges of my borrowed silver robe. I swallow nervously at his proximity, and the fact that under this robe I am wearing nought but a light underdress. Thranduil's hands swiftly undo the buttons, and I can't watch I just feel my heart rate accelerate and my cheeks begin to burn;

"What…what are you do..doing?" I just about stammer out, I think maybe this is moving altogether too fast, yet I do not feel compelled to stop him. But I have too, as much as I am attracted to him; I am not that type of girl. From somewhere I find self-restraint and attempt to shrug away from him scowling disapprovingly as I do so, he stops and gives me an amused look;

"Do not flatter yourself!" He remarks and firmly tugs the robe before refastening the buttons. I drop my gaze and cringe, he wasn't undressing me he was fixing my botched attempt at dressing myself, I am a pathetic individual! Thranduil teasingly smiles and gently smooth's back part of my hair, which I most likely missed.

"In my defense I am half awake!" I moan and clasp my hand around my face, feeling the familiar heated burn in my cheeks; "I'm sorry, that was presumptuous of me!"

"Twas very presumptuous," he remarks with a haughty expression, but a wicked grin plays on lips; "Though that you think of me in that way is quite flattering…for me."

My mouth pops open and I glare at him; "How? No…That is not…You are so, so…ugh!"

"I think the lady doth protest too much!" Thranduil laughs and turns on his heel, and just when I am about to feel totally deflated that he neither kissed me nor touched me again, he slides his hand over mine in a strong and commanding grasp, pulling me with him.

"Come! You must be hungry?" He grins and quickly rushes me along the connected hallways of his warren like home. I don't have time to ask questions nor do I want too, Thranduil's presence is infectious, if he is in a good mood everyone is bright and happy. Sadly when he is in foul form everyone suffers too! Today he is literally full of the joys of spring and I actually feel his joy, and respond in kind with laughter and complete compliance to his requests.

We crash through two sets of double doors and rush past servants carrying platters of food, or cleaning, or just generally scurrying about. I don't know how many times we run into other elves, both of us laughing and apologizing only half-heartedly. The running and the blur of movement is making me a little sick, if I don't get to sit down soon I might just faint, I need a hangover cure and dearly hope this is what Thranduil is leading me towards. At the last set of smaller doors that we reach, Thranduil spins around and grins slyly as he pushes the doors open with his back leading me forward with both hands around my wrists;

"You tell no-one you were here!" he warns playfully, "If Oliel discovers it is I that regularly steals from the pantries then I am afraid they will revoke my privileges!"

"Oh how rebellious," I tease and practically shove past him in search of water; "Stealing food without permission? You are abusing your position Prince!"

"It is what I do well!" Thranduil exclaims and without warning picks me up by my waist and kisses me, slamming the door shut behind him.

Well that's it then all coherent words and thoughts have evaporated into thin air, I helpfully wrap my legs around his waist, well I can't expect him to carry me in an awkward position that would be most impolite! The fact that I grab fistfuls of his hair and crush myself against him is beside the point; this is perfectly acceptable behaviour for slightly more than friends, isn't it? Thranduil effortlessly carries me whilst engaging in another passionate assault of my lips, I barely register that he has set me upon a countertop until he breaks the kiss with a seductive nip to my bottom lip. I practically lean forward with him completely unwilling to end this kiss, there is no way he gets to bite my lip and just stop, has he no idea what he is doing to me?

"Stay here," he commands in a soft whisper which gives me the shivers.

"M'ok!" I reply happily and watch him disappear into the crooks and crannies of this delightful storage space. This pantry houses a lot of bottled fluids, none of which I hope our wine, the very thought is making me queasy. There are also cakes and sweet smelling breads, and all the types of things that are so very bad for you, but oh so very welcome when normal food is just too displeasing to the tender palette. It's not a very big space, I can't be sure but I could probably pace it out in about six strides in both directions, very cosy, too cosy, the perfect hideaway, oh my heart how it flies!

Thranduil returns moments later with a triumphant look on his face, and brandishing an unmarked bottle with a clay drinking cup, he is also delicately balancing a tray of a very promising looking pastry type concoction that smells sweet and divine. Yes me thinks my tender stomach can handle that, though I hope he doesn't think I am into sharing, because I do not share food! He sets the very appealing pie type cake down, and pours a few mouthfuls of the clear fluid into the cup.

"For the head," he smiles and hands me off the cup.

I cautiously sniff the liquid and tentatively hold it to my lips, it smells safe enough, not alcohol based anyway. I take a small sip and am pleasantly surprised by the flavour; it is a delightful and flavourful cordial, more refreshing than spring water and tastier than lemonade, sweet and tangy I could drink the whole bottle. The after kick is far better, I instantly feel more awake and the previous dull throb in my head evaporates, I feel fine better than fine actually, I feel awesome and energetic. Wow this stuff is amazing, it is far better than a starbucks and that is saying something! I hastily guzzle the rest of the cup much to the alarm of Thranduil;

"Tampa! Tira ten' rashwe," he scolds in an amused tone and gently tugs the cup from my hand.

"Hey!" I yelp and attempt to claw it back. "And stop using your own language I don't know what you are saying!"

"I told you to stop!" he laughs and necks the rest of the contents of the cup; "I thought that much was clear."

"Well I gathered as much but that is not the point!" I sniff indignantly; "And why can I not have some more of that divine heaven sent drink?"

"Because one sip of Miruvor is enough to revitalize the weary body of a grown ellon, you do not need that much for a self-inflicted aliment!" He replies rather patronizingly but smirks just to let me know it was not intentional. "Also may I draw your attention to the fact that this is my home, where we collectively speak our native tongue, it is only out of respect and good manners to you that I speak in your primitive language!"

I go to argue the point but the fruit pie is calling me and with a sigh he helpfully shoves it under my nose, producing a spoon just in the nick of time. I really would not have thought twice about just getting stuck in there with my fingers, now that my hangover is sorted I am famished, well not really but I am craving something sweet! It amuses me that, for a prince, Thranduil does not keep up a pretence of good manners in front of me. We both start scoffing the pie like starved animals, occasionally butting heads and engaging in spoon battles when both of us attempt to go after the same tempting morsel. It alarms me that within minutes we have devoured the entire thing, and I am even contemplating licking the jam covered base, because it was that good! Coming in a close second to the happiness that Thranduil's kiss brought me, I do appreciate good food!

I unashamedly lick my fingers clean and attempt to preen myself, Thranduil chuckles at my predicament and I stop to frown at him;

"What is your problem?" I inquire breezily and continue to rub off any of the lasting stickiness from my lips.

"You are so messy!" He responds but almost in that adoring tone and look that makes me blush.

"So are you!" I point out and he shakes his head in disbelief.

"I am clean, I am not a messy child!" he snorts but catches my sneaky grin. Before he can stop me I crash the tin into his face successfully managing to cover his nose and forehead with the remains of the jam. The look of pure shock and horror is so comical I literally laugh so hard that I barely make a noise; I am just shaking involuntarily much to Thranduil's total disgust. I toss the dish to the side before he gets any idea of retaliations, and clasp his face in my hand, he scowls at me but it only makes me laugh harder;

"It is an improvement," I tease but he rolls his eyes and his jaw clenches; "Oh don't be like that! It was a joke!"

I kiss his forehead in order to remove the sticky substance, and then his nose, and basically I start acting completely out of character as I playfully remove the mess I created. I have never been this careless or bold in my entire life, but with him I am unpredictable, and since our passionate display at the dance last night I am not one bit afraid to push the boundaries. I know I'll freak out later when I am not in his company and regret everything, but in the moment I am having far too much fun to stop! Thranduil starts to laugh at my unorthodox solution to the problem, and it does not take him long to start attempting kissing me back, but I daringly tease it out. I don't let his lips meet mine until I know he has lost all patience, so when he does it is rough and deep.

We continue like this for much too long, but I won't stop him and he shows no sign of wanting to either. The kisses are heated and full of passion, I am practically tingling with anticipation waiting for him to take this further but he never does. Not once does Thranduil's hands stray from my neck or my waist, not once does his restraint lapse, he is completely in control of himself. It is frustrating and incredibly attractive at the same time; for him not to cross that line with me lets me know I am not just an object of entertainment for his pleasure but an equal that he respects. Yet these dangerously alluring caresses and deeply intimate kisses are dangling me too close to the edge, his self-restraint may be intact but I don't have the same discipline, I would blame the fact that I have not had centuries of practice but in reality I am just a very hormone driven female!

"We have to go," he eventually mutters breathlessly against my neck and I sigh sadly.

"Yes I know I have a job to do!" I groan and let him pull me off the counter so I stand by his side.

"Not today," he grins as we start to exit the pantry; "I have neglected my promises to both you and Legolas!"

"Thranduil?" I question excitedly and he tilts his head to look at me; "Are we going into the woods again?"

"Not dressed like that!" he laughs and gestures to my hastily thrown together outfit; "but yes I think we deserve the break."

xXx  
The woods are beautiful today, even though the sun is hidden behind cloudy skies with a threat of rain, it is still warm and pleasant. The scent of summer still hangs in the air but the wood is restless, anticipating a change preparing for a time of harvest. Thranduil rebukes my concerns of rain he tells me there will be no downpour yet, and laughs at my not so believing expression. Legolas is equally as unconcerned as he races ahead of us, clearly as delighted as I am to have busted out of the caves. Thranduil collected him from his Grandfather after he had left me back to my chambers, commanding me to find something more appropriate to wear. So dressed in my tunic and leggings, and mercifully my laced up boots I met them at the fountain. From here we took a more common route into the woods, no diving off ledges, and admittedly I am a bit gutted about that.

It was just a causal walk, all three of us laughing and happily engaging in unimportant conversations, of course Thranduil never touches me or gives anything away with his son in our presence and neither do I. Though are resumed easy friendship puts Legolas at ease, and he keeps us entertained and on our toes as he scales trees or disappears for moments in time. When he returns to us it is usually with a captured caterpillar or beetle, and he takes great delight in my grossed out reactions. Though I am not scared of creepy crawlies, I just think it's fun when Legolas chases me with them believing I am frightened.

Eventually we reach the stony banks of a fast flowing river, on the elevated grassy verges Thranduil and I sit to eat a hastily packed snack. Legolas is too hyper to sit still long enough to eat with us, so he flits back and forth taking bites of his father's food, and to present his findings on the river banks. He is fun to watch as he darts and scrambles around in the stones, though Thranduil continually warns him to keep away from the water's edge when he ventures too close;

"Legolas No dirweg!" Thranduil stops mid conversation with me and frowns at his son; "Tolo, govano ven."

Legolas swivels his fair head to look apologetically to his father, as he crouches right on the edge of the water, his hands clasped around something in the mud. He nods and smiles brightly as he charges towards us, coming to a halt at his father's side and looking expectantly at the handful of blackberries in Thranduil's hand. Thranduil offers out his hand and Legolas happily pops as many of the berries into his mouth as he can possibly fit in one go.

"Easy child! You will choke!" Thranduil tuts and predictably Legolas chokes, I hand him off the flask of water, which Legolas guzzles down and gets all over his lovely green tunic. Thranduil raises an eyebrow and tilts his head to stare at me; "He is just as bad as you Clara."

"Oh shut up!" I laugh and playfully shove him, Legolas not happy that he is not involved in this private joke, clambers over his father and planks himself in my lap. He smiles adoringly up at me and presents to me his little fist;

"For you!" He exclaims and opens up his hand to reveal a polished stone; it is round maybe even slightly heart shaped and dark blueish in colour. It is pretty with silvery veins and swirling patterns. It is soft from years of being caressed by the currents of the strong river and heavy for its small size.

"Really?" I gasp and accept the stone from him. "What for?"

"Because I love you," Legolas shrugs like it is common knowledge, before hauling himself out of my lap and throwing his arms around me in light hug, he kisses me on the cheek and smiles innocently; "Don't you love me too?"

I am speechless and all warm inside, I know Legolas can be affectionate and playful but this is a big thing, a major moment for us and I am acutely aware of Thranduil's lingering gaze on both of us;

"Of course!" I answer with the widest happiest smile I have ever given, and accept a cuddle from my little hero. "So so much!"

This pacifies him and in an instant he is scrambling back down the grassy verges and off to investigate more of the river bank, this time at a safer distance. I drop my gaze and stare at the pretty stone, vowing to keep it with me always, this kind of love is precious and a gift that I will never take for granted. Though I am now uneasy, and my head is telling me to be very careful what I engage in now with the boy's father; I am terrified of breaking what I have here and with this undefined rather complicated relationship that I have Thranduil, I could ruin what we have and I don't want that. Shyly I peek up at Thranduil who has a contemplative look on his face, his eyes are glazed and far off in some other memory, probably one which includes Legolas' real mother, something I cannot replace.

"I am sure it was just a childish thing," I mutter and shake my head at Thranduil not wanting to make this into a huge issue.

He blinks and he is fully present in our surrounding again, gracing me with an indulgent smile; "If my son tell you he loves you, then he loves you, and this is a good thing."

"You don't mind?" I ask and drop my gaze; "It is just I spend so much time with him and I guess it is normal for us to have become attached, but he is your son and I don't want you to think I am interfering. I am not nor will I ever be his mother!"

"Of course I do not mind!" He laughs and takes my hand in his, the first real physical touch he has engaged in since this morning; "I would not place the care of my child into the hands of anyone less, he does not know the love of a mother Clara and if he associates that affection with you, then I cannot deny him that. In honesty it is a great relief for me to know that he has someone besides his Grandfather and me."

I blush as he lifts my hand to his lips to place a light kiss there, and I immediately jerk away to make sure Legolas is not watching. Thankfully he is the least bit interested in us as he chases a butterfly along the rocky bank. Satisfied that this is safe I allow Thranduil to sit closer to me, and let him gently wrap an arm around my waist. I lean into his side and tenderly play with his other hand, tracing the lines of his palm and enjoying the sensation of his steady breathing. This is nice, this could be home; in my head from I was a little girl, I dreamed of this sort of peaceful existence, a family and a place to call my own. But life has taught me those things don't exist, and if they do they are hard won and much is sacrificed in pursuit of them. Yet here in this place, surrounded by these people I start to let myself dream again, believing that it just might be possible for me, I was always a dreamer.

A panicked cry cuts threw my dreamy reverie and I focus my eyes on the river bank, hastily searching out Legolas but Thranduil is already several steps ahead of me. He is up and jogging towards the sobbing form of the little elfling, who has obviously slipped and fell on the shale of the bank. I scramble to my feet too and hurry towards them instinctively responding to the anguished wails of the child so close to my heart. Legolas outstretches his cut and bloodied hands to his father with fear filled eyes, pain is not a common occurrence with elves and the shock of the ordeal startles the infant. Thranduil instantly reacts and picks up his son, cradling him close and soothingly stroking his head;

"Hush Legolas, Na sidh," he murmurs and rocks Legolas gently, laying his head on his son's; "Lasta beth nin i naeg innas meth im gwesta!"

I come alongside them and rub the child's back comfortingly, wishing I could speak such soothing and lulling words to him. Legolas sobs subside and he lifts his head from his father's chest to peer sadly at me. He outstretches his palms to show me the damage, and I examine them thoughtfully. Gently I take his small hand and place a kiss beside the scraped and stinging flesh.

"I think we should get back and get this brave warrior's hands seen too?" I suggest and this is met with an approving sob from Legolas. as he burrows his head back into his father's chest, keeping his damaged hands firmly outstretched so as not to cause himself further pain.

Thranduil nods and gestures for me to follow, whilst he continues to speak softly to his son, I stay a step behind them not interrupting the beautiful speech. The words soon turn to song, beautiful sounding music that is hard to believe that it is made by a simple voice. I understand elves love to sing, it is part of their culture and they have no concerns about casually bursting into song. It is often how they communicate their feelings or how they greet one another, it is a bizarre custom but something I find a great deal of comfort in. Though I do believe this is the first time I have heard Thranduil sing, openly and with no shame, it only succeeds in making me fall even harder for him.

xXx

"Is he asleep?" Thranduil asks when I finally exit Legolas' bedchamber; I nod with a sad smile and he sighs with relief.

Legolas did not enjoy the ordeal of removing the stones from his hands, or his knees, which we discovered were just as bashed and bloody. He cried for a solid hour when the healer applied antiseptics and bathed the cuts to ensure they did not get infected. Thranduil and I did everything we could to distract him, but eventually he just wanted to crawl into bed and listen to stories. This was my area of expertise and Thranduil soon left us to our imaginations. After a few hours Legolas drifted into sleep and I kissed his pale forehead in farewell.

"He told me to tell you that we have to go into the woods again, since our adventure was cut short," I say with a fond smile and add; "I would agree with him."

Thranduil smirks and closes the gap between us, my heart flutters as he strokes my cheek and I sigh contentedly with his touch. I am falling altogether far too fast but I can't help it, it all just seems so easy.

"Then we shall," he whispers and kisses my forehead gently; "Thank you for your patience, being a parent…is…unpredictable."

"Don't be silly!" I laugh and shrug, "I enjoyed this, it was nice and normal, very familiar."

"Yes it was," he gives me a strange look but I don't question it, because he literally scrambles my thoughts with a lingering kiss. His hands cup my face to his, whilst he continues to make me melt with soft kisses, causing my knees to turn to jelly and my heart to fly.

"Thranduil?" I murmur against his lips, as he takes a break to let our foreheads touch; "What are we doing?"

I know he understands what I mean because he sighs and lets his hands slide down my face to my neck, then to my shoulders. I really don't mean to ruin the moment, but I can't carry on if this is some kind of causal thing. Not with Legolas and not with my own mental state, because I am falling fast and I can't lie to myself and pretend this is just some little fun arrangement.

"Thranduil we can't mess around here, not with Legolas he is too young, and we can't go down that road unless it leads somewhere." I say with a serious tone, attempting to sound logical and reasonable. I go to step away from him but he steps with me;

"Why would it not lead anywhere?" He asks searching my eyes with his own unfathomable deep gaze; "Did I give you reason to think I was not interested?"

The concern in his voice floors me, I guess I never expected him to worry over something like that; "No, I just, well, you are royalty and I'm…well…not. It is kind of a problem."

"To who?" Is his less than concerned reply and I shake my head in exasperation at him.

"To your people, to your father, it is a problem Thranduil you have to admit that!" I say with a defeated sigh.

"Who I choose to associate with is no-one's concern, not even my fathers," he replies with a sharp and angry undertone to his voice, but it is quickly replaced with a softer tone as he clutches my face again forcing me too look at him; "Clara I care for you, I want to be with you. I crave your company when you are not with me, and I want to be closer to you! Do you not want this too? I can understand if it is too much to ask but please know this was never just a fleeting desire."

I don't let him finish because I have heard enough, I crush my lips against his and wrap my arms tightly around his neck. Oh to hell with politics and social class, I have never been this happy or this excited in my entire life. It is because of him I am like this, and I am not letting it go just because I am too scared of what people will think, since when have I cared what people think! This is my life, granted my new slightly surreal second life, but it is mine and I am not settling for second best anymore, I want Thranduil and I'll have him. He returns my enthusiasm and I can feel his smile though our kiss;

"So you want this?" He asks breathlessly and a little starry eyed.

"I want this!" I confirm with a triumphant nod and tug his lips back to mine; yes I want this more than I can tell. I get lost in his touch and wrap myself up in his embrace, for once in my life I am exactly where I am meant to be.


	12. Chapter 12

12

Winter has come to Greenwood, and with it a quietness and a sleepiness, it is actually quite enjoyable. The days are lazy, and the nights filled with good company and cheer, around warm fires with hot drinks and song. I continue on with my life much like I did before, living and working within the King's halls and finding a great deal of joy caring for Legolas. Yet I am restless, I long to do something with my time, I miss my art and although I can put my skills to good use with Legolas it is not the same. My life has fallen into a joyful rhythm which I am ecstatic about; Thranduil spends every spare hour he has with me and we have grown so close, it seems hard to believe that there was a time in which I didn't know him.

For the most part we have kept our relationship quiet, not wishing to draw attention to ourselves and to maintain normality for Legolas. The only other souls that know of our intentions are Oliel and Aradan, who are quite happy to maintain our privacy. In fact they quite enjoy being the only two that know, and I have caught them on more times than enough sharing knowing looks or raised eyebrows, when Thranduil and I behave a little too cosy in public. Yet that is the height of our familiarity; long walks, deep conversations and tender kisses with the occasional heated exchange. I know he is being respectful and careful but I long for the passionate and unpredictable prince that caught my attention all those months ago. I cannot believe I am thinking this but I want temper and I want fire, though I know deep down this is not the customs of elves, they take love and courting seriously. But just one moment when he lets his control lapse is all I need; I need to know does he love me? Does he see me as a lover or a companion? Such a strange predicament to be in, but I'm patient I can bide my time and wait for him to take this a little further.

I am slowly growing my circle of friends too! Oliel took me to meet her family at a time of great celebration; her eldest brother had not long married a beautiful auburn haired elleth and they were expecting their first child together. This news brought Oliel to tears, I have never seen her so emotional over the prospect of becoming an Auntie. Oliel's family are equally as warm and affectionate as she is, all embracing me and making me feel like part of the family. I immediately bonded with her mother, who is the epitome of motherliness. Gilron, she is called and it means 'star-tree,' in their fair language. She is as tall as a tree, with willowy limbs and long silver hair, she is ageless but her eyes are as ancient as the mountains.

She came out of Doriath after its destruction many millennia ago, with Oropher and his kin; she was only a young hand maiden to his then wife Lassiel who was carrying her first and only child. Gilron told how they came to settle in Greenwood, and how the silvan people embraced the rule of Oropher and Lassiel. Times were happy but the new Queen was anguished and deeply traumatised by Doriath's destruction and could not find peace. Though for a brief time she was happy when her son was born, she raised Thranduil and stayed only for him. Gilron explained that she too found happiness with a silvan elf, a scandalous thing for a sinda lady to love someone of lower status, but it was the Queen that encouraged the union, to her love was love and deserved to be honoured. And so Gilron had her family and maintained her duties to the Queen, though often cumbered with three excitable elflings, it only meant more playmates for the young Prince, and now I understand the almost sibling relationship Oliel has with Thranduil.

Gilron was a talented seamstress and barely had to touch fabric and it would turn into the most wonderful creations, though she is far too humble to admit that. She made her fame as the royal seamstress and still to this day designs everything they wear, and to my awe I realise this is where my clothes have come from. Though now she chooses to work from home, after the departure of Lassiel it grieves her to not see her beloved Queen. Lassiel departed middle earth only a few centuries prior to my arrival, as Gilron put it; she had seen her son grow up proud and strong, her work was complete and she could leave knowing in her heart she had raised a noble ellon capable of shouldering the responsibilities of his title. I shed a few tears when I heard this tale because Thranduil never speaks of his Mother and barely mentions his Father; to know how important she must be to him is heart breaking. I understand now why he is so tender and involved with Legolas, he was raised that way.

I spend a lot of time with Gilron, and she is always very interested in my art. She keeps encouraging me to take it seriously and not to forget the skill, but in honesty I am always busy. I am always chasing after Legolas, helping Oliel, stealing kisses from Thranduil or when I get a moment, sleeping. I understand what she is saying, I am an artist and I should not forget that, it is part of my identity and I must retain that part of myself. So in a very motherly fashion she is teaching me how to sew, along with Ollie of course, and make tapestries, it is early days and it is only when I can spare a moment, but if I miss a visit she instructs Oliel to bring home for supper, so she can sit me down and ensure I am using my hands and my brain. She doesn't like it that I have no family or no other kin to guide me; quite simply she has adopted me.

All in all life is good, and happy, I choose not to dwell on my old memories, but sometimes they come creeping in. At times I will remember that the name given me was Josie, and I will look in the mirror and see shadows of that mortal girl and wonder how she changed so much. I will feel my head begin to throb as I try and understand how I came to be Clara, though in my heart it feels I have always been Clara. The immortal being reflected back at me is so familiar now that I get confused, as I try and conclude what was reality and what was fantasy. Regardless I cannot change fate but I do wish I could understand it, I think maybe if I did I could find peace with myself.

On this particular winter evening Oliel and I skip arm and arm together back through the caves, to our home; laden with a basket of goods from Gilron, who worries that we don't eat enough good wholesome food. I would have stayed longer but I am meant to be meeting Thranduil, and I am still at the stage where this fills my stomach with butterflies and anticipation. Oliel returns with me considering a warm bath and an early night will be of some good to her. She dislikes the winter and is restless for the spring and the brighter days, I on the other hand love the quietness of it. We reach home and crash through into our living space chattering loudly, barely noticing the presence of another until Oliel does that deafening shriek of joy that practically perforates my ear drum;

"Aradan!" She trills excitedly and runs to embrace our mutual friend.

"Ollie!" He sings back and kisses her cheek in a friendly gesture, I smirk at the pet name in which I created, and even her own Mother uses it now. So she has accepted defeat in the mater and fully embraces the cuteness of it.

"To what do we owe the pleasure Captian?" She smiles and skips back.

"Alas I do not bring pleasant news!" he exclaims and gives me an apologetic look; "His highness has been requested to meet with his Adar this evening. He came looking for you to tell you himself but you where away, so he requested that I pass on his deepest regret that he cannot be with you as promised."

"Oh," I say and try and keep my face expressionless, but I am devastated, I literally want to cry. It alarms me how much I look forward to our time together and sometimes it frightens me how close we are; "What of Legolas, does he require me to attend to him?"

"Nay, he informs me he shall see to his son's care tonight, you are to relax and enjoy yourself!" Aradan replies with his courtly voice that is designed only for being a complete show off, and lifts a basket from the table to hand to me.

I cautiously take it from him and pull back the wicker lid, and then erupt into a fit of laughter at the contents. Oliel and Aradan give each other a curious look and I roll my eyes;

"He is buying my affections now!" I grumble and drop the basket on the table.

"Oh let me see," Oliel squeaks and starts rummaging through the basket; "Clara! Three bottles of the finest wine in the cellars, do you know the expense of this stuff?"

"No," I reply innocently, that is a lie of course I do, Thranduil is intent on teaching me the difference between good wine and 'commoners slop,' frankly the all taste quite similar but god forbid I say that out loud. "and it doesn't matter it is no replacement for him."

"No but it is a damn good start!" Aradan laughs and grabs a bottle from the basket; "Well if you will not appreciate it I shall."

"By all means," I snort huffily and plonk myself down on the sofa to sulk.

"Oh do not be like that Clara!" Oliel sighs and shakes her head; "He is trying."

"This is the fourth time in the past fortnight," I whinge and cross my arms about my chest; "If he is that busy he should not make promises to break."

"I told you a Prince's lifestyle was demanding," Aradan adds breezily as he fills up two glasses and offers one to Oliel who gratefully accepts. "But there is something else in the basket Clara."

"I have no interest in kiss ass gifts!" I nod resolutely and lift my chin haughtily.

"Even beautiful and expensive robes, that is just divine!" Ollie cries and I glance around to her see her holding bundles of thick fabric.

"Let me see!" I gasp as I jump to my feet and haul the rest of the garment out of the basket.

The robe billows to the floor and is the most enchanting colours of silver and gold, which just shimmer in the candlelight; it is covered in patterns of leaves and trees everything I love. It is made of a sheer material but there is lots of it, making it appears thicker than it actually is. I toss off my cloak and pull it on. It has long trailing sleeves and the hems puddle on the ground like an oversized blanket, but it is fitted perfectly around my waist and shoulders. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror overhanging the fireplace and I have to do a double take, it makes me look so ethereal and regal.

"You look stunning Clara!" Oliel whispers and I grin goofily.

"Oh alright he is forgiven!" I admit and walk up to Aradan to remove the bottle from his hand. He gives me an amused look as I knock it back and drink straight from it. "What?"

"Oh nothing!" He sniggers. "Just your lover's personality is rubbing off on you."

I snort and roll my eyes; "Lover would imply a certain level of shameless behaviour, Thranduil is nothing but respectful."

"I knew it!" Aradan shouts and fist pumps the air; "He is a complete bore when it comes to romance."

"Oh behave yourself!" Oliel interjects, "I doubt that is the case, I think he is just being careful. Clara he just needs a little encouragement, be patient."

"Yes Clara, he is a warrior and that means he follows orders, so give him some commands to follow!" Aradan laughs uproariously and throws himself down on a lounge chair, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Did I insinuate that I wanted shameless behaviour? I think not!" I frown at them both and this statement is met with another knowing glance shared between them. "Am I missing something?"

"Yes!" Aradan mumbles into his glass; "You need a man not a mouse in the bedroom."

"Aradan!" Oliel gasps her face turning pink at the comment.

I choke on the wine I have just necked form the bottle and kink up in fits of giggles. I crumple to the ground and laugh until my sides hurt;

"I am going to pretend you did not say that!" I hiss at Aradan and he shrugs, "And secondly I am just as much to blame as he is, I do not know how to be…desirable?"

"Oh please I have seen you dance!" Aradan roars again and even Oliel raises an eyebrow in disbelief.

"That was one time!" I defend myself and take another swig of the very strong wine, oh this is going down far too easy; "I mean I was pretty drunk at that point, and there was all this sexual tension and pent up frustration."

"And what there is none of that now?" Oliel asks with a giggle.

"No! That is the point, there is heaps and heaps of it but, ugh," I groan and slap my hands on my knees; "He is just so bloody controlled all the time!"

"Well that is a problem," Oliel nods and Aradan sighs in agreement.

"What? How is it a problem?" I beg and gulp down more of the wine.

"Well you see Thranduil has always been very controlled," Aradan starts, "It is one of his strengths and maybe even one of his flaws."

"He struggles to loosen up," Oliel puts in, "He used to be very carefree but he has more responsibilities now."

"And since his injury, he struggles with his insecurities and his frustration, keeping himself reigned in is his way of controlling his emotions and his memories," Aradan finishes and Oliel nods in agreement.

"So what can I do to help him?" I ask innocently.

"Just being you is enough I think," Oliel states softly; "I have seen great improvements in his mood with you around."

"I agree," Aradan seconds her comment and smiles fondly at me; "Whatever you are doing Clara do not stop. He'll surprise you and if he doesn't force him too."

"Aradan you are a scoundrel!" Oliel rebukes and tosses a pillow at him. "You do not encourage that type of behaviour."

"Oh stop acting coy Ollie!" I laugh and she scowls at me; "You love it just as much as I do."

"I do not!" she shrieks and covers her burning cheeks with her hands.

"Yea you do!" I grin and slink across the floor to snuggle up beside her; "We all know you are the biggest romantic in this room."

"Oh really?" Aradan grins slyly and leans over his chair waggling his eyebrows. "Do spill all Ollie's dirty little secrets!"

"One word mellon nin and I will cut out your tongue!" Oliel threatens me when I open my mouth. I press lips together in a fine line and duck behind a pillow.

"That's the first secret Aradan, she is actually a murderous psychopath!"

Clara! I MEAN IT!"

xXx

Several hours later and copious amounts of wine, because the three bottles were not enough for my excitable little besties; we are a giggling mess of merry elves. We have devoured the contents of the food basket Gilron sent back with Oliel and me, so we are all suitably fed and over watered. Somewhere in the night Aradan and Oliel get caught up in their own private conversation, I don't actually notice for some time because my own mind has drifted, as I daydream of dancing by the fire pit with Thranduil, and contemplate the term 'lovers.' However when I do finally come to, I ascertain my presence is maybe a little intrusive, and I grin at the pair of them as they gabble complete nonsense to one another. For once I am the most sober individual in the room, and that is saying something. They are two of the most wonderful people I have ever met, loving and giving to a fault, they are my family and I feel like at last long prayers have answered.

I feel a little brave with my wine fuelled courage, and I decide it is late enough to pay my lover a visit. Maybe Aradan is right, maybe I need to give Thranduil a nudge in the right direction, let him know I like the idea of letting the control slip a little. Sober me would be appalled at my forward behaviour, but I lift a full bottle of wine and stride confidently through the hallways of this majestic dwelling nonetheless. I love my new robe it makes me appear dramatic and even a little sensual, as I catch my reflection on a long mirrored wall; my cheeks are flushed and my hair loose, it does not matter that I am wearing a plain damson dress because this robe is just stunning, truly he knows how to be fashionable. I hope it will please him that I am wearing this; I hope it will please him to see me.

I find his room, because I have been outside this door a few times before but never inside. Boldly I knock and await a reply, it is only in this split second that I realise the possibility of Oropher being inside is quite high, and then what will say? Think Clara, think of an excuse, oh no what have I done…I am not drunk enough for this…I mean dammit I didn't even have that much, Aradan inhaled the lot before I could get my mitts on a full bottle. Oh shit oh shit oh shit, run away!

"Adar if that is you, I swear I am working!" Is the muffled grumble from beyond the door and I inhale deeply with relief, Oropher is not inside.

I feel a bit confident again and quickly turn the handle before I change my mind. I poke my head around the door and squint into the dimly lit room. It doesn't take me long to make out the hunched over and studious figure of Thranduil. He sits at a cherry wood desk, very ornate looking with all manner of maps, books and letters splayed around it. His lips are pursed and his face drawn in concentration as he reads the parchment in front of him. I smile fondly as he absently chews on the fingernail of his thumb, his little habit when his mind is elsewhere and dwelling on not so pleasant things. He is not yet aware that it is me and sighs exasperatedly, holds out his arm and gestures for me to enter;

"'Quel undome!/Good Evening" I squeak and I watch in amusement as his whole body twitches and turns to the sound of my voice.

"Clara?" he gasps and a broad smile lights his features, he rises from his chair and makes his way towards me; "Mae govannen!Mankoi naa lle sinome?/Well Met! Why are you here?"

"Oh I know this one!" I whisper thoughtfully; I've picked up bits and pieces of sindarin and Thranduil is very adamant that I try and learn a new word every day. Once I mastered a string of common words I have attempted to use them at least once in everyday conversation, after all it is the only way to learn though at this point I doubt I will ever be fluent. "You asked me what I am doing here."

"Tanya nae n'quel/That was good," He bows his head in appreciation of my attempt and I grin;

"Diola lle/Thank you," I thank him as I slink in the door and close it gently behind me; "I just wanted to see you. Kind of like a surprise visit, so surprise!"

Thranduil outstretches him arms and happily receives me, he gently pulls me down on the settle at the table, and I snuggle up to him. I know I had grand aspirations of trying to seduce him tonight but he looks genuinely weary, and I am little worried about that. As of late he seems, I am not sure how to describe it, but bi-polar would be the apt description; one moment he is relaxed and calm, then he can be edgy and withdrawn, but for the most part he is quite indifferent. Though with me he tries to be level, but I am sure something distracts him; sometimes I worry that it is the injury that something has contorted his mind and for want of a better word, makes him darker.

"It suits you," he murmurs as he runs his hands over the length of the sleeves of my new robe, before lacing his fingers with mine.

"Yes it does," I reply with a smirk, "but what did I do to deserve such a gift?"

He diverts his gaze and I sigh dramatically, this evokes a sheepish grin from Thranduil and I laugh in response;

"Don't think you're getting off the hook that easy, this is the fourth time you have disappeared on me!" I warn and playfully tap his nose, but when his face remains expressionless I frown and grip his chin; "What is wrong?"

"Absolutely nothing that you need to concern yourself with!" He replies breezily and leans over to push a few letters out of sight, but I grip his wrist and give him a warning look.

"Something is not right and you are worried!" I comment and I watch his jaw clench tightly, a brief flash of indecision crosses his face, and then it returns to its very unconcerned and composed state. "You can tell me, I know I am not very wise or particularly bright but I can listen?"

"Ai Clara please I do not wish to talk about such things, will you not be a pleasant distraction for me?" He replies and I see that same weary look mar his youthful face, aging him, I keep forgetting how old he really is.

"Well!" I smile sheepishly and coil an arm around his neck; "A distraction was what I was hoping for, but see now I am worried that you are hiding something from me!"

"Clara!" he sighs in exasperation and runs a free hand through my hair; "It is nothing, just political headaches, I have told you before our relations with the other realms is always a sore point."

"The King likes to keep things as they were in Doriath," I reply and Thranduil nods in agreement; "So then what do the Noldor elves want from us?"

"Oh you are too quick!" He teases and rests his forehead against mine whilst I smile victoriously, I will make him talk if it takes me all night. "Our allegiance is what they want, or at least confirmation that if it should be required we will submit to Gil-galad."

"Is there need for an allegiance?" I ask my tone suddenly very worried, I know the histories Tolkien wrote of but so far the reality has been so different. Here in the peacefulness of Greenwood there is not even the whisper of trouble. We are hidden away safe and sound, out of sight of the intrusive outside world and I like it that way we all do.

"This is why I did not wish to discuss such things with you," he smiles sadly and traces his thumb along the frown lines on my brow; "You will worry when there is no need."

"But war Thranduil? there can't be war!" I cry in alarm, "You are injured you cannot fight again, not for years, the healers said decades even!"

"And there will be no war," He gently but firmly interrupts me and places a silencing finger to my lips; "It is all hype and hearsay I see no reason to worry just yet."

"Then why do your eyes say something different?" I say boldly and pierce him with an accusing stare.

"You will not be comforted," he sighs in defeat and shakes his head; "Yes Clara there is trouble in the lands outside our home, but there is always the threat of war and the coming of evil times. It has always been so and no doubt war will come again, but not now! So you have nothing to fret over."

"Then what is your father worried about?" I push and Thranduil shakes his head wearily at me.

"He does not like Gil-galad's attitude, nor is he particularly fond of the intrusion of the Noldor in Lorinand. He resents being told what to do or how to act by other lords;" He answers me with a devil may care attitude and carefully stretches over to pick up another letter and read it thoughtfully.

"And you?" I ask timidly, "What do you make of the whole thing?"

"I am not overly interested," his tone is again breezy and he shrugs, he lies I know he is lying; "Though I believe father needs to be more reasonable, his stubbornness will be his ruin! I believe it is safer to listen and gather all the facts before acting, I am not against taking counsel with the High King, and I am impressed by his regent. I have no quarrel with Elrond; in fact I probably owe him my life."

"Is there to be a council?"

"From the subtext of these letters, then yes there probably will be many a long arduous meeting." Thranduil groans but gives me a comforting look; "But I have told you not to concern yourself, this is not something that is likely to happen soon, it will be a number of years before Lord Elrond can convince my father to be in the same room as Lord Celeborn and his noble wife."

"He really doesn't like people sure he doesn't?" I mutter as I slide further into his chest and smile softly at the deep laughter rumbling from his chest.

"Actually my father is quite sociable, you would like him and he you, I am sure of it!" Thranduil remarks but I am not so convinced on that matter but I don't protest I just let him continue; "He made a promise and a commitment to his Sindar kin that followed him here, and the Silvan people. He vowed to keep the values of Menegroth; his realm would be a safe and untouched world, away from the deceitfulness and corruptness of the other races, as Menegroth should have been. We do not invite strangers into our lands it is safer that way."

"I understand," I murmur and sigh contentedly as he continues to stroke my hair soothingly; "Your father is very wise, I trust his judgment, I know he will keep us safe."

"He will," Thranduil replies and for once his voice holds a revered tone for his father; "He always has,"

I stay by Thranduil's side for a little while as he works, he ponders over parchments and scrolls, and he reads maps and mutters incoherently to himself. I make out the odd curse or displeased phrase, which only confirms to me that despite his comforting words Thranduil is worried about something. Of course these things may be in the future but he is obviously looking ahead and trying to prepare himself, so I don't interrupt or ask any more questions, I trust him when he tells me not to concern myself for the moment. I do get bored though, and decide to poke about his rooms, yes rooms; it appears Thranduil does not just have one bedchamber but an actual suite of interconnected rooms.

I meander about his study come lounge for a while just so that I am still in his sight, but curiosity gets the better of me and I go exploring. There is a short hallway crammed with art, books and all manner of trinkets and artefacts. Clearly these are things he has collected over the years; I examine everything and am a little pleased that we obviously share the same taste in art. He likes scenes and paintings that depict myths or times of old. There is even a bathroom, well the elvish middle earth equivalent; because this is a cave its natural water formations mean bath houses can be constructed easily enough, Thranduil has a pool like bath and a sort of natural rock shower protruding from the rocky walls, I am jealous I miss showers, though I highly doubt it is electric power shower with instant hot water. There is another smaller private study which I do not enter, it seems intrusive, and eventually I find the actual bedroom.

I teeter on the edge of the doorway feeling a little guilty about loitering here; there is something private about snooping about someone's room. It is a vulnerable place, a hideaway really, well at least mine is; if the walls of my bedroom could talk they could lay bare my darkest secrets and greatest anxieties. I am a very tactile person, I like to touch and feel my way around spaces, so I step into the oddly quiet space trailing my fingers along the stone walls and tree like pillars. This room is a little less ornate looking than the others; the cracks in the rocks here and there let the starlight filter through, and a gently draught quietly rustles the lengths of material that obscure the ashen wood bed in the centre of the room. It is a beautiful bed, much prettier than mine, it is like a wood sculpture of twisting bark, silvery in the eerie light of this room. I trace the crooks and notches in the wood, inspecting the patterns and then feel the softness of the covers, oh how inviting and I am suddenly feeling quite drowsy. So I sprawl out on the bed upside down and on my belly, because firstly it is a massive bed and secondly it's just how I roll.

I inhale deeply, it smells like him, a scent that is hard to place; woodsy at first like evergreens and fern but with a musky undernote that I guess is just a natural scent, but that smell can settle or excite me in a moment. There is obviously something true about the whole pheromones thing, I mean really it is not normal to be this obsessed with someone's scent! Deciding that I should really stop acting like an obsessive stalker I roll onto my back and gasp; the ceiling above is the night's sky, well obviously not the night sky but a very believable replica. Painted above me are dozens of stars some painted and some larger ones are actually glinting, they're stones tiny little gems how incredible! I prop myself up on my elbows and gawp in awe at the craftsmanship for a few moments, before dropping back down again so I can trace the patterns in the air with my fingertips.

I get completely lost in the captivating sky above me; it reminds me of something forgotten? It is like I have seen this before in another time, another reality outside this one? I feel my brow scrunch together in concentration as I try to place the memory and reconcile my old mind with my new, but the sensation of the mattress giving under the weight of another distracts me for a moment. Arms capture me and I let them pull me away from the stars overhead and onto my side; I smile when greeted with a pair of eyes, one glittering the other dim but nonetheless familiar. I clasp my hand over the scarred section of his face and let the heat of my palm warm it. Thranduil sighs contentedly when I do this and holds his hand against mine; he tells me he still cannot feel much as the nerves are still mending, but he can make out and tolerate the sensation of the heat of my palm. This supposedly brings him comfort that he is not completely deformed and hope that he will, one day, be complete again.

"I was distracted by the stars," I murmur as I rest my forehead to his, he clearly doesn't mind that I have taken up residence in his bed. Thranduil turns his head to gaze upwards and smiles fondly before answering;

"My mother had that commissioned for me when I was a little older than Legolas, those white gems were her own, an heirloom from her Teleri ancestors. She left the remains to me, so that if I ever was blessed enough to have a daughter I can gift them to her, so she may have a memory of her Grandmother."

"She sounds beautiful, your mother, or at least the tales I hear of her are filled with her praises?" I say wrapped up in this image of a starlight queen, graceful and beloved by all.

"She is beautiful and without fault, but she is my mother of course I am bias," he chuckles brightly but I see a sadness in his eyes that I cannot comprehend. "I am sure you would feel the same way about your own?"

"I didn't have a mother," I say too quickly and with too flat a voice, I sense his questioning gaze and shrug; "She left when I was a baby, she was young, overwhelmed and in love with another. So she escaped and I don't blame her, though sometimes I wonder if she loved me at one point? My father was not exactly an upstanding member of the community, a little too fond of his drink and a little too fond of the female species. I was raised by extended family, they were decent enough to me I can't complain."

There is a long silence, and I feel a tad awkward for sharing. This is why I hate to share myself with others, the weighted judgments, the pity and the questioning silence. Thranduil is probably weighing up whether or not he should run for the hills about now; I mean who wants to be cumbered with that emotional baggage? Ugh I should have kept my mouth shut and went along feigning memory loss, instead of making things heavy. He doesn't need to know this, why did I feel the need to divulge; now this is going to create more questions and I really can't deal with that. I stiffen when he stretches over me so his face hovers above mine and tendrils of his long hair tickle my face, though i refuse to meet his eyes; I do not want to see the pity there.

"Clara you do not have to hide from me," he murmurs quietly and I force myself to catch his eye.

"I don't trust easily," I whisper back unsure what to make of the understanding, and almost empathetic look he gives me. Why is he not bombarding me with questions or awkwardly avoiding me, that is the usual reaction?

"Why would you when no one has ever given you reason too?" Thranduil muses and I feel tears prick in my eyes; "Let me earn that trust from you."

I nod robotically in consent to the request, because frankly I can do nothing else, no one has ever given me that much respect and control before. This is acceptance and I am quite sure I have never felt that before. His lips meet mine and I let a stray tear of release slid down my cheek, finally I feel brave enough to let the mask slip. I deepen the kiss and pull him closer to me, letting my fingers trace his face and jawline.

These kisses are slightly softer and cautious than anything I am used to. Thranduil's gaze is a little more serious than before; he is not interested in playful or passionate exchanges at present. It is something a little more than that, he is exploring me and I him. I feel my heart flutter as his hands find the hems of my dress and the bare skin of my ankle, with the lightest and smoothest of motions he trails his hand up my leg, over my knee, and all the way to my hip. My heart begins to race and I am suddenly filled with anxiety, I realise that maybe I am not ready for the fiery passion that I fantasised about just yet, but equally I do not want him to stop. Though I need not have worried; because he investigates no further and seems content to just draw little patterns on my thigh and leg, as he kisses my neck and chest.

I relax immediately when I register that Thranduil will never cross a line with me, not until I am certain that is what I want. With this is in mind I let my own hands explore more deeply, I realise this trust works both ways and I know I am really testing the water by tugging up the corners of his loose tunic. His body is his insecurity, he hates it and I register the notable lack of mirrors in his chambers, but I persist regardless. Thranduil breaks away from a particularly tender kiss to regard me warily, as I let my hands slip along the contours of his waist and abdomen bringing the tunic with me. I smile encouragingly as I gently pull the loose material over his head and cast it aside, and then coax him onto his back.

I know he is terrified of my reaction, I can see it in his eyes as he continues to watch me intently for a reaction. Yes the markings are gruesome and seeing them would make anyone recoil, anyone but me I think! I guess I just don't see what he expects me to see; these ripped and violent scars are testament to his courage and his ability to survive, they could be the most attractive thing about him. I curl into his good side and focus my attention on the scars. Kissing them and caressing them like I do his face. So he can feel the sensation of touch again and also acceptance, just like he accepts me. His soft and contented sighs are enough for me right now, and soon he finds my lips again and we continue on in much the same way as we started.

I do not know when or which one of us lost track of time first, but I drift into happy dreams with soft colours, warm and comforting locked in Thranduil's secure embrace. The night fades and the hours slip away until I hear the presence of birds singing. I sigh softly and blink a few times before registering my whereabouts. I am still curled tightly into his side, using his chest as a pillow and one of us obviously had the good sense to pull the blankets around ourselves. I register my exquisite new robe was removed and thrown aside at some point during our lazy make out session, as I am currently dressed (mostly), in a very crumpled up version of last night's dress. I grin groggily at the memories and know without a doubt that we have most definitely nudged our relationship on a bit more.

I am briefly startled when Thranduil stretches out, and makes the most adorable little grunting noises as his body protests against wakening. His glazed eyes are suddenly alert and bright as he registers me, he smiles ecstatically and instantly props himself up on his elbows to kiss me. He settles back on the bed and begins playfully twirling a strand of my hair around his fingers. That is all we do for the longest time, just smile indulgently at each other, because really we have no need for words. Talking would just ruin this sublime and ever so perfect morning. It is only when I register the shafts of bright winter light entering the room that I jump up suddenly;

"What is it?" Thranduil asks half in concern and half in annoyance as he rolls onto his stomach to watch me. I pause for a moment and stifle a giggle at his less than polished appearance. So he isn't always so preened and perfect, now with his ruffled hair, pillow creased face, and bleary eyed morning look. However instead of making me feel smug it does nothing but make my knees weak and my stomach knot, messy Thranduil is even more alluring than the polished version I have grown accustomed too.

"The time!" I squeak as i force myself to look away and hurtle about the room, not really sure what to do with myself? How am I ever going to sneak back to my quarters at this time of day? This is like the walk of shame, only I have done nothing to be shameful about! Well admittedly I let my hands stray a little too dangerously during the night, but for the most part I was very well behaved.

Mercifully Thranduil catches on to my train of panic quite quickly and joins me in a mad dash to look presentable. He disappears into a closet type space and randomly fires several articles of clothing at me. I catch them and roll my eyes, his tunic is going to drown me and so are the leggings but I don't have a choice. At a push I can wear them under my lovely new robe and pass them off as pyjamas. Oliel will know ultimately that I am lying and if Aradan is still loitering about, I will never convince him that I am innocent.

Thranduil gives me space to dress and returns to rescue me from the tangled mess that is my hair. He hands me a comb and I yank it brutally through my hair, all the while Thranduil gives me horrified looks. He is not at all impressed by my complete disregard for hair care, and vehemently refuses to allow me to fix his. Once we are both presentable, he attempts to smuggle me from his chambers and just when we think the coast is clear a sleepy little voice reminds us that we are in trouble;

"Ada? Clara?" Legolas grumbles with yawn, as he rubs the sleep from his eyes and squints at us in confusion. "Clara why were you in Ada's room?"

"Um," good grief think woman THINK! I wheel my eyes around to Thranduil begging for his help but he looks like a deer caught in the headlights, a very unbecoming look I must say! "Well…um…"

Nope not a single thought comes to mind and my ever so articulate Prince seems to have lost the power of his speech, for once in his very long life! Seriously he is completely vacant, I feel like kicking him just to see if that will jump start his brain function. Legolas continues to watch me questioningly, fully expecting a logical answer and suddenly I have a flash of an idea;

"Pancakes!" I shout and Legolas jumps, whilst Thranduil manages to tilt his head to look at me with that ridiculous freaked out and confused expression; "We are going to make Pancakes for breakfast, and I am going to teach you!"

"In our night clothes?" he asks timidly and I nod energetically.

"Yes! It is a tradition where I am from! You get up really early and wake your friends and go make a bunch of pancakes, and sit down and scoff them all!" Well technically I'm not lying Auntie Tricia used to do that on Shrove Tuesday every year. The fact that it is neither Tuesday nor Pancake day is not important. What is vitally important is that Legolas believes me, and magically he begins to nod excitedly and I can see the excitement set in as his eyes widen in anticipation.

"Ada isn't Clara brilliant!" Legolas cheers and collides into my side to give me a brief cuddle, before skipping off to leave his scruffy old blanket behind.

"You can breathe now," I command Thranduil as he has yet to twitch even a muscle; "Crisis averted!"

"Whatever pancakes are I am very grateful for them!" Is the only thing he manages to wheeze out and I barely control my fit of laughter, as he groans and buries his head in my hair for a moment before muttering in my ear; "We need to tell him soon."

"If we tell Legolas then we need to tell your father!" I exclaim with quite a strangled voice, I don't think I am ready for that. Thranduil pales slightly and gives me a nervous look;

"I can procrastinate!"

"Yup me too!"

xXx

"Pass the honey!" I sing brightly to Legolas and he helpfully tries to spoon on the sticky contents of the jar over the hot pancakes. "Whoa easy we want honey with our pancakes, not honey with a side of pancakes!"

"But I like it like that!" He defends with a pout.

"Legolas your teeth will rot and fall out if you continue like that," Thranduil playfully warns his overzealous son, in between gigantic mouthfuls of his own portion.

"Coming from?" I grin and raise an eyebrow at his plate swimming with honey.

"I am a cripple, allow me some happiness!" he wails dramatically and points his fork at me.

I playfully slap him across the back of the head with the rag I have been using to clean up, he ducks and gripes but Legolas giggles;

"Thranduil you should be ashamed using such an excuse!" I cry and then jab a finger at his gut; "Though at this rate you'll be too fat to move, and really will be in trouble."

"Clara just called you fat Ada!" Legolas helpfully points out the obvious and literally rolls about the floor in complete titters.

"Well she is one to talk," he threatens and jumps from his seat to grab me around the waist. I shriek and flick flour in his face, quickly ducking behind Legolas for protection.

"I will protect you Clara!" Legolas proclaims at the top of his lungs and grabs a handful of flour and slamming it down on his father's forehead, and so the war begins!

We chase each other around the communal dining area of the royal family's private chambers. The grand fireplace made for an excellent makeshift stove, and Thranduil was able to get one of the servants to bring me the ingredients I needed. The pancake idea went down a storm, the perfect way to round off a perfect morning. I feel sorry for whoever is going to clean up after us, because this flour fight is getting quite aggressive. We are so engrossed in the battle that it isn't until the very last and worst moment possible, that we realise we are not alone!

Thranduil has me captured around the waist again, as he vigorously rubs flour into my cheek. Legolas is scrambling up his back in his vain attempt to rescue me, and it is in this position Oropher plus, evil spawn of the underworld, Ithril find us. Ithril looks disgusted and honestly if looks could kill I'd be dead by now. Oropher is expressionless but I can tell he is less than impressed. Immediately I straighten up and curtsey, Legolas slides down his father's back and bows his head sensing the sombre mood. Thranduil blinks robotically for a few minutes, and I roll my eyes, please talk this time;

"We were…um…Clara was teaching Legolas how to make pancakes!" He manages to say. "And I was…observing!"

"Quite!" Oropher sniffs and casts his trained eye over me; "Can Clara not teach the making of these pancakes in more suitable attire?"

"It is a tradition where she is from!" Legolas pipes up and I suck in a sharp breath! Oh no oh no oh no, as far as the King's concerned I am supposed to be memory-less, oh the look I am getting would curdle milk!

"So you have memories Lady Clara?" He asks and I can only open and close my mouth like a goldfish, no actual coherent words can be found at this point.

"She has some," Thranduil interrupts quickly, "Nothing set in stone, we were actually celebrating this memory, I thought it would help spur on her recovery if she engaged in something like this."

"Well how very thoughtful of you my son," Oropher replies his voice even but I catch a look shared between the two of them speaks volumes of their relationship.

"Would you like to try some Your Majesty?" I ask and hold out a plate, plastering the biggest and most innocent smile on my face.

"Yes child thank you," he smiles and helps himself to a small bite, before nodding approvingly; "I do not make much of these bizarre traditions but these are divine, you will make them more often I hope?"

"Well yes of course Sire!" I bow and remember my manners as I outstretch the plate to Ithril, resisting the urge to just smash the plate in her pinched up face.

"Oh no thank you," she replies and flicks her hair over her shoulder; "I do not believe my stomach could handle foreign gruel."

"It is not gruel!" I snap and she sneers, does she ever know what gruel is, ugh stupid little elf air head!

"Why are you here Adar?" Thranduil breaks through the sudden tension and Ithril gives my prince a very hopeful, almost lustful look. Would it be wrong of me to chuck the honey over her head! How dare she look at him like that, he is taken…sort of…and this just makes me feel very uncomfortable!

"The mid-winter feast," Oropher replies breezily and continues to snack on the pancakes, oblivious to my presence. "You will take Lady Ithril as your guest for the evening."

"What?" I squeak my voice high pitched and almost at level only dogs can hear! I register that I am getting funny looks from everyone, bar Thranduil who looks furious at the mere suggestion; "I mean what is the mid-winter feast?"

"It is a celebration of the coming end of winter, and the hope of spring," Thranduil answers through gritted teeth and continues to stare his father down, who seems not in the least bit interested; "I do not believe it would be appropriate to take Lady Ithril, I hardly know her, besides would it not be wiser for me to take Clara as my guest, so she may care for Legolas."

"Oh can I go this year?" Legolas butts in all excitement again; "Oh please Grandpa let Ada take Clara so I can go?"

"It was not a suggestion Thranduil it was a command," Oropher replies evenly, whilst Ithril stare daggers at me, I avoid doing the same thing in return. I will not stoop to her corrupt low levels. "Lady Ithril is a guest with us from Lindon, you will show her the respect she deserves and the hospitality of this house."

"With all due respect Lady Ithril but I have no interest in this damn party, and I highly doubt being seen with another Lindon elleth on my arm will improve my reputation!" He snaps angrily and I resist the urge to stretch out a comforting hand to him, I know the thought of returning to court has been plaguing him, he is still so insecure about himself.

"I assure you mu lord I have nothing but the humblest intentions, I have no affiliation with your estranged spouse," Ithril mumbles and bows; to hell she does, there is not a humble bone in her body.

"She is not my spouse!" Thranduil growls threateningly; "She is not estranged; she does not exist and watch your tongue in front of my child!"

Legolas wraps his hand around mine and I instinctively crouch down to his level, training his eyes to mine and distracting him from the disaster unfolding before him. Oropher immediately reprimands his son in their tongue and I recognize a heartfelt apology to Ithril. I have to fix this, Thranduil is defending me too he will not hurt me but he has to for the sake of Legolas, and his father at this point. Besides I trust him, it's one night, I can handle seeing him with another woman for one night, it's basically a pity date anyway.

"I know how this can easily be fixed," I chirp and all eyes are suddenly on me. I swallow a lump and ask in the same bright tone; "Legolas?"

"Yes?" He asks nervously.

"Would you be my handsome prince, and escort me to the mid-winter feast?" I giggle and clutch my chest in a swooning fashion. It works he beams at me and then to his Grandfather, who actually cracks a smile. I have told him enough prince charming stories for him to grasp the importance I am placing on him, and his little ego is completely puffed up in seconds, it is adorable I can hardly contain my laughter.

"I shall!" he squawks and leaps into my arms for a cuddle.

"Oh I am the happiest girl in all the kingdom," I cheer and spin us around playfully.

I stop briefly and catch Thranduil's eye, he is smiling tenderly at us and I know he grasps what I am trying to do. I know deep down this is what he wants, the three of us to go, he would be more confident that way. No-one would pay us a blind bit of notice; the ordinary folk of this kingdom are used to seeing Legolas with me, and often their crowned Prince in tow. Yet there is something more in his expression that I don't quite understand yet, I am not quite sure what he is seeing, but his face softens and his temperament settles.

"Wonderful then it is settled," Oropher comments and stands to his feet, "Thranduil you have no more concerns?"

"No," he replies sadly with a defeated sigh, but he quickly rearranges his features and addresses a clearly delighted Ithril "It would be my honour to escourt you to the feast my lady."

"The honour is mine!" She replies brightly and curtsies.

"Come Thranduil, we will speak now," The King adds as he walks from the room, Thranduil dutifully obeys, stopping to kiss his son on the forehead.

He stops by me for a moment and we lock gazes, I know he wants to apologise and I know in a heartbeat he would tell his father. But it is Legolas we worry over, that was neither the time nor the place to find out and so we make sacrifices. The tension between us is almost tangible; I am practically vibrating at the frustration of not being allowed to touch him. I want to kiss him fiercely just to make Ithril combust on the spot, but I do my level best to restrain myself from the overwhelming urge. I watch him use all his will power to walk away and I turn and smile sweetly at Ithril.

"Legolas!" she snaps and he jumps to attention at my side, she rhymes off orders in elvish, which I more or less translate as go to the study for lessons, and he obeys with hesitation. We watch him go and she turns to sneer at me;

"Whatever fantasy you have in your dull little head about the Prince and you…erase it!" she snaps and my eyes pop at her tone.

"Pardon?" I ask in shock.

"Do not play coy with me servant, I see how you look at him, and it is most improper!"

"I have no idea what you are implying!" I hiss back.

"Let me spell it out for you little girl; Thranduil is a Sinda prince if he is required to take a wife again it will not be some, ill reared, illiterate, backward, mongrel that washed up on his doorstep in nought but her rags! You are a filthy peasant, nothing is expected of you but to serve and wait upon your superiors…like me! You are a nothing Clara, to the likes of us you do not exist!"

And with that said she turns on her heel and floats off, leaving me stunned and cut to the bone. My cheeks heat up and I feel tears brim on my eyelashes, I am angry of course but at the moment all I feel is crushing hurt. So I run, I run like the coward I am, because she is right I cannot compete with her I would lose painfully if I tried. I reach my chambers and slam the door behind me, gasping in deep breathes to stop the sobs. After a few moments I gain composure and straighten myself up, smoothing my hair and my robe before exiting my room.

I rap Oliel's door and she answers straight away with her wonderful smile that fills me with confidence;

"Hello my lovely Clara?" she chimes and then frowns and my obvious tear stained face; "What is it? What has he done?"

Oh bless her she is ready for battle with her oldest and dearest friend, for me! I am touched we really are soul sisters. I shake my head and choke back a sob;

"No it is not Thranduil," I laugh sadly; "It is Ithril!"

"That bitch!" she bites and I choke back more miserable tears mixed with laughter. I love Ollie I truly do, she asks no questions and defends me entirely.

"Ollie teach me to be like you!" I say confidently and she cocks her head to the side slightly confused; "Thranduil is a prince and he needs an elleth who has the capacity to fend for herself among the nobility, not some silly little girl, if I want to bat with the big boys I need to learn fast!"

"Right give me a minute!" she nods resolutely and examines me for a moment; "And go dress properly!"

"Yes ma'am!" I reply and then frown; "Where are we going?"

"To pay my Naneth a visit!" She says confidently and I smile victoriously. If there is any elleth that knows how to train a wannabe Lady it is Gilron, the very hand maiden to the late Queen! Ithril my dear you have royally screwed up!


	13. Chapter 13

"Alright Clara, try that again…and with less attitude please!"

With a sigh I attempt to "float," as Gilron puts it up a flight of stone steps, in a gown that has more bloody layers than an onion! It has a cinched waist, which is apparently to make me aware of my posture, but in actually fact just cuts my lung capacity in half. It has a train, a train that is so stupidly long I keep stepping back and getting all twisted up in it! And shoes! With heels! I have been barefoot for months in this place, and at a push I wear boots, so why are heels introduced now? I never wore heels as a human because of the obvious deficit I had in co-ordination and motor skills, and mostly because I look awkward in said heels. As an elf I have better control of my balance, but I still look awkward as sin in heels, it appears here too you must acquire the ability to walk like a runway model, and no, apparently it is not something you are born with.

For the past fortnight in the run up to the feast I have been living and breathing everything Gilron says and does. She is my spiritual leader, my guru, my Yoda and my fairy godmother, but she is also a tyrant, and so strict and oh my poor hurting toes and mangled waist. I have been working my socks off, metaphorical socks of course if I actually had socks my feet would not be so crippled, to get this elf thing locked down. I have come to the conclusion that I may actually love Thranduil, and this scares me, mostly because of the overwhelming desire I have to be the elleth he needs. However I am absolutely certain I adore Legolas, he is my whole life, and I will not let him down! I will be the role model he needs to help him grow and develop, he needs an elleth capable of guiding him, and I sure as hell cannot be that if I can't live up to the standards of his society! I also am determined that, that she bitch, keeps her corrupted and dirty paws off my little ray of sunshine! Legolas will not grow up with that haughty attitude, he will not be that elf, Ithril will not have that hold over this family!

"Clara daydreaming is a lovely trait of yours, but not when you are working, up those stairs you go! Come now we almost have it!"

Gilron snaps me out of my dark thoughts and I square my shoulders and attempt my Everest. I am supposed to float up the stairs, take a seat on the garden chair come pretend throne and descend again. Not that I will be sitting on thrones, I just added that in there for the fun, well I had to learn to sit down properly and pretending I was Queen of the castle was helping spur me on. If Legolas was here he would be thoroughly enjoying himself, but alas he isn't and I kind of regret that. I need to keep this quiet though, I don't want Thranduil or Legolas knowing for a second, I am doing this for me, for my confidence and my self-worth.

"Clara!"

"Oh alright!" I jump and set my finely shod foot on the stone step of Gilron's split level pavilion, this is her garden and close to the surface of the caves.

"Attitude my darling, it is fine with us but will not be tolerated in regal circles," she replies with a gentle smile. I cannot hate her even if I tried.

"I'm sorry," I grumble, "Right here I go!"

"How about that attitude will not be tolerated by us or in regal circles?" Aradan pipes up from his stretched out position on the grassy bed of the garden, he is sunbathing or well just enjoying the bright light that pours into large garden from the mouth of the cave.

"Why are you even here?" I snipe and he lifts his head to smirk at me.

"Because I enjoy entertainment and you are very entertaining!"

"Ollie!" I roar and she scuttles from the kitchen holding a teapot and eyes me questioningly. "Do something with him!"

"Clara focus!" Gilron replies and rubs her temples in frustration.

"Aradan please be more thoughtful!" Oliel mutters and begins pouring everyone some tea, "You are only here to serve as Clara's dance partner, any more bad behaviour and I shall ask you to leave!"

"You would not!" he gasps and lops across the garden to retrieve his tea, as Gilron motions me to continue my incline.

"I would too!" Oliel confirms with a giggle and I smile smugly, yes we all know there is something blossoming between the pair and I totally deserve all the credit for making that happen.

I successfully reach the top of the stairs, do that silly little curtsey thing to the pretend guests and take my seat. I smile broadly at Gilron's approving applaud and then scowl when I find Oliel and Aradan not one bit interested, as he feeds her a slice of cake. Dammit what do I have to do around here to get noticed!

"Oh for the love of the gods, get a room!" I snipe and haughtily cross my left leg over my right to swing it in an irritated fashion. "Gilron, how do you stomach being around them all day?"

"Ah tis love," Gilron adds with a glint of joy in her starlight eyes and I grin back knowingly. Honestly I am ecstatic, they are my best friends, they know all my jibes are just for fun and they particularly enjoy goading reactions from me. I am envious they get to be so public with their affections, I can only dream of that with Thranduil.

"Right I am famished," I say and stand elegantly to my feet, which receives an approving nod from Gilron, and begin descending the rock steps.

I am doing really well, I think my brain has eventually clicked, Thranduil was right the mental block is in my head. I can do this, I am a graceful creature of power and beauty, and this damn dress is going to kill me! I catch the heel on the trailing hems and feel the fabric slip, my foot goes from below me and I throw my arms out to catch myself. With a rather loud yelp I fall with a thump on my ass, with layers of fabric everywhere! I slide down four steps before I come to halt and manage to gain some sort of balance. After a moment of recovery I launch back up on to my feet, and smooth out my dress and hair. With a resolute nod I glance to my now silent onlookers;

"Well that got your attention!" I huff and throw my head in the air as I strut down the rest of the steps; "And by the by I totally meant to do that!"

It is Aradan that kinks up first, but mercifully Oliel shoves the rest of the slice of cake in his mouth to shut him up. She is trying hard to hold back her own fit of laughter as is Gilron, and frankly their attempt to remain silent is pitiful as within a minute they all erupt into giggles at my expense.

"Oh it's useless!" I groan as I slump down on a free garden seat, and drop my head into my lap. "I will never be a lady!"

"You are a lady," Gilron corrects and I feel her firm hands around my shoulders as she yanks me upright; "And ladies do not slouch."

"We have been at this for a fortnight, the feast is tomorrow night and I still trip on my frock!" I grumble and sip my tea.

"Well elegance takes time, everyone struggles with it. It takes millennia to perfect trust me I know," She responds softly and comfortingly squeezes my shoulders. "It is the attitude and the way you engage with others that makes you a lady."

"Oh well then we may just give up now!" Aradan mumbles through a particularly large bite of cake, and receives yet another slap from Oliel and scowl from Gilron; "I am just jesting, you are all so sensitive!"

"Do not listen to him Clara!" Oliel replies and comes to kneel by me; "You are the brightest most loving elleth I know, you are a lady!"

"I would not say those things about myself," I sulk into my teacup.

"But you are," Gilron interjects before Oliel can have her say; "There is something very unique about you Clara, you shine light into dark places. A home that was once a silent and painful place is full of joy and laughter again, you did that child and that is more the sign of a noble elleth, than how she can walk in yards of silk."

"Exactly!" Oliel confirms, "Which means Ithril just wishes she was as stunning as you."

I blush violently and duck behind my cup; "I really hope you guys are right about this, because I have no more time left."

"We still have tonight!" Gilron responds, "and tomorrow we dedicate to dressing."

"Oh that sounds terrifying," I gulp as a look is passed between Mother and daughter that alerts me to their evil plans.

"Nonsense!" Gilron laughs and bounds to her feet, holding out her hand I graciously accept it and allow her to bring me to standing; "Very elegant Clara, now time for dancing, Aradan if you will?"

Aradan groans and shoots me a warning look; "I have broken toes because of this Clara, I hope you appreciate my sacrifice!"

"Well Thranduil never complains when we dance," I snort as he takes me by the hand in a courtly fashion; "Besides it is these stupid dresses, I can't see my feet and I sure as hell can't see yours!"

"Oh sure blame the dress, and Thranduil does not complain because Clara that is not courtly dancing! That is as close to a lover's exchange as dancing gets!" He laughs and waggles his eyebrows suggestively.

"And how do you know I am referring to that one dance, for all you know Thranduil and I dance all the time," I reply and engage in a complicated quick step but to my glee I master it effortlessly.

"Dancing? Is that what you young things are calling it nowadays?"

"Aradan! Seriously get your mind out of the gutter!"

"So there is no dancing? I knew it, honestly what do you two do all night, talk over cheese boards and wine? I swear I am going to need to draw him diagrams, this is getting boring!"

I purposely misjudge a step and plant my heel in his toe; he lets out a yell and glares at me in disbelief;

"What was that for?" he cries and stares at me with betrayed eyes.

"I am a lady, making inappropriate remarks about my private life is vile and degrading! That good sir was to teach you a lesson in manners!" I say in my best courtly voice, with a flick of my hair I reset our steps and await his compliance.

"Well done Clara," Gilron claps cheerily, "And that my boy is why you should never hassle a lady."

"Bravo Clara!" Oliel enthuses and I grin triumphantly at them both.

"Ollie! You are supposed to take my side," Aradan whines and then glares at me again.

"I do not take the side of scoundrels!" She replies airily and disappears back into her Mother's home with the dishes.

"Oh I guess you are not quite the charmer either my friend!" I say and lift my chin defiantly.

"Oh shut up!" he grumbles and I burst into a fit of giggles.

"Right back to formation, this is your last chance Clara and you are doing wonderfully!" Gilron instructs in her no messing about tone.

So with that we go back to our dancing lessons, and we dance until I cannot take another step. It is good and I think I have succeeded in remembering all the stately dances, I may not be super awesome at them but I can execute without trips or toe crunching. Aradan and I soon make up, and are back to bantering with one another with ease. He tells me later that I have nothing to fear, he cannot fathom how any elf could dislike me. He calls me endearing and proclaims that I shall be victorious at the feast, he predicts by the end of the night everyone will know who I am. Gilron is positive too and Oliel, who is more preoccupied with reigning fire down upon Ithril. Ollie thinks when the feast comes she will eat her words and never be able to look me in the eye again. I doubt this is the case but I appreciate all their encouragement. I only want to impress one elf, and that is the King, if I can gain his approval then maybe he'll not be against the idea of Thranduil and me. There is very little I can do now, I love him so much it scares me, the very thought of not being with him fills me with dread. So I have to earn my place, and make them notice me. This is my one shot and I have to make it count!

xXx

My feet are burning when I eventually get back home, and my mind is far too active to allow me to rest. I am too nervous to eat and unfortunately it is late and Legolas is fast asleep, his father filling in for the caring duties to allow me an evening off. So with no way of distracting myself and with insecurities knawing at my mind, I raid one of the libraries of historical texts on Greenwood and go sit by my favourite fountain.

The cool water is too inviting and I pull up the hems of my silken chemise night dress and dip my chapped, throbbing feet in the water. I groan in relief and wrap the woollen blanket tighter around my shoulders, settling down to absorb as much as I can about my home. Gilron tells me I must read something new every day, history archives are a good place to start, but it is hard to find writings that are translated from elvish to Westron. There are some, and it has been a useful tool in teaching me to read Sindarin, but it is a tedious task and often I give myself terrible tension headaches over it all. Still I will not be beaten I have to do this, I don't have a choice, if I want this second chance then I have to fight for it!

So this is where I sit until the lines of the text blur together, until I cannot sit up straight any longer and my body caves in exhaustion. It has been a very long two weeks and in some ways a very speedy fortnight. I don't dwell on Ithril's cutting words they are just that, words, I don't fear her but it has shaken me up a little bit. I have avoided Thranduil as best I can, which has not been that hard considering he is always in some sort of meeting or discussion with his father. I guess I don't want him to recognise the uncertainty in my eyes when I question myself, sometimes I just lie awake and make myself sick at the thought of what I have done. I have fallen in love with someone completely out of my reach; I barely have the skills to be a lady but a Princess? To actually be responsible for a race of people? The thought is enough to push me over the edge! I will come to terms with it; I just have to man up or elf up or whatever it is, and take responsibility for my actions. Seriously why couldn't Thranduil have been a farmer or something, our life would have been so much easier with none of these crazy responsibilities.

"Oh Clara stop thinking," I groan and scrub my face with my hands, as if I can wipe away the exhaustion. I try and tell myself that Thranduil has never actually commented on our future so realistically I have nothing to worry about. However this thought brings with it an avalanche of new worrisome questions which I refuse to dissect for the sake of my mental stability. I lie down on the stone ledge of the fountain and try to clear my mind, attempting to find peace in the trickling water and the quietness of night.

I must lose consciousness after a few hours because when I eventually come too, it is because someone is hauling me off the ledge of the fountain, and I am freezing. I startle and drowsily attempt to sit upright, blinking against the tiredness of my vision;

"Clara you are deathly cold," a concerned voice that warms my heart asks, "What are you doing out here, look at you? You are exhausted!"

"I'm fine, stop fussing," I mumble and try to amble to my feet, but I sway and Thranduil catches me with ease; "Well okay maybe I am a little tired."

I blink up at him and smile sheepishly; he frowns and shakes his head, worry creasing his brow. Resting me against ledge he shrugs off his robe and bundles me up tightly in it before scooping me into his arms as if I weigh less than a bag of grain. I don't say anything because I am just too relived to feel heat, and snuggle into his chest, all prior worries momentarily forgotten. He carries me back through the halls and to my bed, where I really should have been hours ago. I do suppose great big under eye bags, and dry tired skin is not exactly the look of a lady either?

Thranduil clambers onto to my bed to rest me easily on it, attempting to limit any unnecessary jostling and lets his hands glide to my feet, which are now like ice. He settles himself at the foot of the bed and takes it in turns to clasp his inferno hands around my dead feet, warming them slowly. This is nice, and for the longest time I just enjoy the sensation of it;

"Clara what is wrong with your feet?" He asks and gently rubs the painful scratched toes, making me wince slightly.

"Breaking in heels," I mutter groggily, "I don't usually wear shoes and I have been getting used to the idea in time for this feast."

"By what? Dancing on glass?" He jokes half-heartedly, "It is just a party, it is not worth causing yourself pain over!"

"Ah you are so naive," I laugh softly and peek at him; "Do you not know appearance is everything!"

"I live by that motto," he smirks but nods in understanding, and before I can protest he grips my left foot tightly and places a ticklish kiss there.

"Ugh what are you doing that is vile," I laugh and attempt to wiggle my foot free, "don't kiss my feet please!"

"I will kiss whatever part of you I wish," he threatens and slinks up the bed towards me, placing playful kisses on my knees, my belly, my arms and all the way up to my face, which he covers in ticklish kisses that make me giggle.

"You are incorrigible!" I gasp as he locks his arms around my waist and pulls me close to him, so that my back is flush to his body. His gloriously warm body, oh I am so cold and so sleepy that this is heaven.

"Mmm I do as I please," he murmurs in my ear, in that gravelly voice that makes me shudder; "Hush Clara go to sleep you are weary."

"Only if you stay with me," I yawn and fold my hands over his, where they are locked around my waist.

"I will always stay with you," he whispers back and grazes my shoulder with his lips. That is all I recall before I slip into a peaceful nothingness.

xXx

The morning comes all too fast and I am perplexed when I awake to find Thranduil gone. I wonder if I just dreamed up our little rendezvous last night, but when I exit my room fully dressed and looking near enough alive, I nearly trip over a box at the door. Trying my best to not curse, as per lady etiquette, I crouch down and lift the lid of the box. A single piece of parchment rests atop folded silk and I curiously examine it. I slowly unfold it and let out a soft laugh at the familiar script;

'Fine slippers are worn by Queens and courtly ladies alike!

They are much better for dancing in, and softer on fairer feet.'

I barely contain my excitement as I unfold the pale lilac silk to expose the most wonderful pair of beaded slippers I have laid eyes on. They are white and made of the softest silks and satins. Intricately designed with crystal beads and tiny pearls, they look like something sleeping beauty would have worn. The craftsmanship of elves never ceases to amaze me. As gently as I can I slip the shoes on my poor scarred feet, oh it is like slipping on silken gloves, and stand to my feet. I talk a few tentative steps and sigh with relief, it is like walking on clouds, soft fluffy clouds, I don't care what Gilron says I am wearing these tonight!

I hear Oliel approach and spin in the hallway to grin excitedly at her. She stops and cocks her head to the side questioning, she forms her lips to ask the question but I speak before she can;

"He gave me shoes!" I coo only making Oliel's brow furrow further in confusion. I pick up the hems of my skirt and point my finely shod toes more elegantly towards her; "Lovely, heaven sent shoes for my aching toes."

I twirl in a circle and attempt a few dance steps; Oliel giggles in understanding and shakes her head fondly. I stop and give another appreciate squeak of glee;

"Shoes!" I say again because I am literally so happy; "Shoes that I can wear and not fall down in!"

"Yes I see that," she just about manages to speak, as I squeak again and complete another celebratory dance.

I stop for a moment and sigh happily, eyeing Oliel with a starry eyed look I add with much feeling;

"Ollie I do believe I love him!"

xXx

"Clara stop fidgeting child!"

"I can't help it, it's so itchy!"

"I cannot fathom how it is itchy?"

"I hate my hair tied so tightly, it makes my scalp scratchy."

"Patience and I will loosen the knots shortly!"

Gilron runs her fine fingers through the tight twists of my hair held in place by twisted rags, supposedly this is to extenuate my natural wave; personally I just want to rip them out and scratch my scalp senseless. It is getting late and I am starting to panic if I will ever be ready in time, though Gilron seems unphased by mews of concern.

I rushed through the morning tasks, and left Legolas to the care of his Grandfather, who insisted on it. Thranduil as far as I knew was sulking, or that was how Oropher put it. I know he isn't sulking, I know he has locked himself in his room and is having an out and out anxiety attack! He doesn't want to be presented to his father's court so soon, he doesn't want questions or curious looks, and he certainly does not want the pressure of having to perform. He has made no secret of this to me, but I am used to the closed off and reclusive Thranduil, however it is becoming increasingly obvious Oropher is not. I am coming to the conclusion that the crux of their strained relationship is due to the fact that Thranduil has changed, and my mind is automatically drawn to the night I first perceived the prince. Injuries so grotesque that he was barely discernable as an elf let alone a man. Lord Elrond's words that night may have been somewhat truthful, Thranduil would not be the Adar Legolas remembered, but I now have the distinct impression the renowned healer was attempting to prepare Oropher that his son would not be the same again.

I sigh absently and wonder what Thranduil was like before I arrived here? Would I have even liked him or would he have even noticed me? Maybe the likes of Ithril would have appealed to him before; maybe Oropher is trying to force his son back into his old life in a vain attempt to help him? I suddenly realise the past several months must have been so utterly devastating for Oropher; alone and without another soul to turn to he was left to try and salvage the pieces of his family, with his wife gone only a few decades previously he must have felt completely isolated! I see the King in a new light and immediately decide that he deserves great respect, maybe even a little acknowledgment for his struggles. I vow to remind Thranduil of this next time he has a grumble about his Father, he is doing his best and Thranduil has the tendency to be very uncooperative.

"Are you quite finished arguing with yourself my dear?" Gilron asks with a smirk, and mercifully begins untying the tight rags in my hair.

"Huh?" I mumble and lock eyes with her through her reflection in the large mirror I am seated in front of.

"Whoever you are sternly reprimanding better watch out," she replies with a soft laugh and eyes me knowingly; "Ellyn are difficult creatures it takes centuries for them to learn anything."

I laugh so hard I can barely splutter out my question; "Was it that obvious?"

"My dear I have been married so long that I cannot even begin to count the years, so I know a peeved look when I see it! Tell me the sweet Clara, what has that rascal of a prince done to irk you so?" Gilron smiles fondly and her eyes are faraway for a moment. I did eventually confide in Gilron about Thranduil and she was extremely supportive, but she also told me she had sussed out my feelings for him a long time ago.

"You speak of him like he is a child?" I point out and raise an eyebrow; "That little rascal is a grown ellon you know!"

"Ah but he will always be a youngster to me, as you all are!" She playfully pinches my cheek and makes me giggle. "You will understand when you have children of your own. Now come tell me?"

"I was just making a mental note to remind him to not be so hard on his Father," I say with a resolute nod; "I am lucky, I never met the Thranduil that existed before his attack, but I am starting to realise it may not be so easy for everyone else."

"You are an intuitive youngster Clara, a sure sign of one of noble birth," Gilron replies softly as she works diligently with my long locks; "Indeed it is hard for those of us that knew Thrandul before, but many things have changed him not just the horror of war, and not all of them bad."

"How do you mean?" I ask innocently, feeling much more relieved as more of my hair is loosened from the tight bands.

"Well fatherhood suits him, he is less immature and reckless now that he has a child of his own to care for," She muses and I nod in agreement; "but then there is you, and my dear I have not seen Thranduil this agreeable in decades, you young lady may have tamed the beast."

"Was he really that wild?" I swivel in the chair to eye Gilron questioningly.

"Oh he was a nightmare, he constantly tried his father's patience and his dear mother broke her heart over his recklessness!" She grips her chest in mock horror and stifles back a few stray chuckles; "Combat was his speciality, he was tireless and ferocious in his endeavours to carve out a name for himself. So fixated on making he and his people into legends, that he often lacked the good sense to be fearful. In a strange way that injury may have been a blessing, I think he now realises he is not indestructible."

"Oh dear he really was a handful," I mutter as I am forced to return to my original seated position facing the mirror. Gilron sighs and continues on her assessment as I listen intently;

"He was, but he was also joyful, entertaining and very charismatic. He loved being centre of attention as a child; he could hold the attention of an entire room from he was little more than a youth. That is why his reclusive behaviour worries us so; it was not in his nature to be so cautious and insecure."

I catch of glimmer of sadness in Gilron's eyes and I quickly interject in an attempt to lighten her mood; "He just needs time, besides he is not that cautious he jumped from a cliff, with me as his prisoner! Oh and we were very much the centre of attention at one of those youthful gatherings of the guards."

"Mmm so I heard," Gilron frowns teasingly and raises an eyebrow; "Not at all ladylike Clara."

"Oopps," I try my best innocent expression and this seems to work as she laughs heartily at my apology.

"You see my dear you are the very reason I have hope for our beloved Prince," she states with confidence and lets out the last of the twists. "Our home has never been so bright with a lady as vivacious as you."

"Well the vivacious part I like, but the lady part I am still doubtful over," I grumble, "After all with the likes of Lady Ithril at my table, I will surely pale in comparison to her effortless elegance!"

"You are worth ten of Lady Ithril, for she may have been fortunate in to which family she was born, but that does not make her a lady," Gilron reminds with a stern look; "I have told you before it is the person you are that makes you noble, you are judged by your deeds and your character not by who your parents are."

"Let us hope then I am of good character," I sigh sadly and watch Gilron grow ever more frustrated with me.

She sets down the soft bristle brush in her hands and comes to kneel in front of me. She takes my hand in hers and uses the other to cup my cheek, and with a soft voice but starkly contrasting serious eyes, she continues her teaching;

"Ithril is a fine elleth, there is no doubting that she can speak well, and carry herself with grace and dignity. She can command a room with a mere look; she can impress a King with good manners and stately charm. She may even be knowledgeable in all sorts of political matters and possess fine leadership qualities, but she lacks something important. For of all the gifts that she has, she has neither love nor kindness in her heart, and what are we if we have not love and compassion for others?"

I frown in confusion and Gilron laughs softly and squeezes my hand; "We are nothing without love in our hearts. So do not feel anger or resentment towards Ithril, pity her for she does not have what you do; a good and loving heart. Do not let her goad you into a temper or make you feel insignificant, instead show her kindness and good humour, be the example of a noble lady."

"How do you ever become so wise?" I ask in awe, with my mouth slightly ajar, it seems as though my fears have evaporated. With Gilron's unwavering belief in me I suddenly feel a twinge of confidence begin in my heart.

"By making many mistakes," Gilron smiles and stands fluidly to her feet again, taking the brush she finishes soothing out my new soft curls. She resumes to less weighted chat and I find comfort in the sweeping motions of the bristles on my hair. Tonight's feast does not seem so terribly daunting now.

xXx

"Remember no slouching, no talking with your mouthful, no over-eating, no over-consumption of wine, and for the love of the Valar do not ramble!"

"Agreed, to all of the above, but I don't know when I am rambling. I mean how do you know if you have talked to much or too little? No-one actually points out what is a socially acceptable amount of time to talk. And you know some people don't like awkward silences, so is it not polite to fill awkward silences? And also rambling constitutes as something you do when you run out of things to talk about, what happens if I genuinely am interested in the topic and have lots of things to say, is that still considered rambling?"

"Clara?"

"I'm rambling aren't I?"

"Yes!"

Oliel gives me a stern look, whilst I awkwardly hug myself in my nervousness. I will have to enter with the King and his entourage, escorted by Legolas of course, and I am a little queasy at the thought of everyone looking at me. I plan to just focus all my attention on my little prince, who I sincerely hope is going to be so incredibly cute no-one, will care about me. However Gilron and Oliel's fine work mean I am looking a zillion times better than I usually do.

Gilron dressed me in a lace and silk gown of ivories and ice blues; it is a proper noble dress, not like the fun and flirtatious ensembles from before. The silk underlay fits me like a second skin, draping across my shoulders and skimming my curves. The lace and tulle overlay gives the gown presence and movement, with the long trailing sleeves and pooling train. Along the slashed neckline and soft bodice are intricate patterns of pearl and gems, and they happily match my slippers, which Gilron reluctantly relents to let me wear. My now curled hair is pined back softly, but with small complex braids and tiny white flowers entwined in them.

"Stop fussing Oliel my dear she will be fine," Gilron comments as she strolls into my bedroom all business and bright smiles; "It seems your handsome Prince has arrived and he is very dapper indeed."

"Oh I am going to cry aren't I?" I giggle and clutch my heart, "All grown up and going to his first feast."

"He just melts my heart Clara he really does," Gilron giggles too but holds out her hand to stay me for a moment; "You are not quite ready yet." I frown in confusion as she ducks her hand into her robe and pulls out a square blue box. She opens it to reveal a fine silver circlet and I gasp in response when she holds it out to me;

"I can't wear this!" I splutter in shock at the very suggestion.

"Yes you can and you will," She replies forcefully as she fastens it to my brow; "Besides it is nothing I have several of these old things lying around, gathering dust from my glory days. Tis a shame to keep them in a box, they should be worn, and given purpose again."

I feel the light weight of the silver against my forehead and instantly feel ready for my task ahead. I glance in my mirror and am surprised by the reflection, the familiar vision of the wild haired and wide eyed elleth is replaced with what I can only describe as a lady. Straight and sure, impeccably put together and with a serene countenance, my how things have changed?

I don't dwell too much on my gradual transformation, and am quickly ushered out the door with excited chit chat and giggles. Oliel is just as stunning in her lavender gown, the soft blush colours a contrast to her mahogany mane and thick fluttery eyelashes, Aradan is a lucky elf tonight. Gilron has chosen to stay at home, she states she is too old to be out feasting half the night, and is simply looking forward to a quiet night with her beloved husband.

The three of us saunter out into the hallway that connects our chambers to the Kings and to my surprise I find not only Legolas but both his Grandfather and his father, and to my dismay Ithril, but I keep composure nonetheless and smile enthusiastically to all of them. Bowing gracefully for his Majesty, this gaining an approving nod from Gilron and I internally praise myself.

King Oropher is as always the picture of an arch angel, dressed in silver robes and brandishing a majestic oaken staff. On his brow he wears a slender crown with a white gem that at first glance could be mistaken as a star; he is every inch the Sindar lord. I can feel his power and his nobility but his feature are soft and welcoming, and I sense the essence of his nature; fair and kind with no malice or cruelty, he is a good King. My eyes wander to Thranduil, and I am instantly filled with pride and no small amount of desire.

Like his father he wears silvers, starlight colours that speak of his heritage, but his circlet is more subtle; I guess it is made of mithril and looks like twined willow branches. The collar of his robe is high, obscuring a lot of his face from a distance, but despite the thick scars he is equally as noble as his father. Such fair features, such mesmerising eyes, even if one is clouded, it is no wonder Gilron said he could capture a room from childhood. One look from those eyes and he could render you speechless or hold your soul prisoner, yes he is powerful and gifted with something much more than just physical strength. And yet with me he is gentle and easy to commune with, even now his gaze morphs into that glimmering familiarity that makes my heart sing. That look is meant only for me and for the briefest moment his lip pulls up into tiny a lopsided grin. His gaze sweeps over me just the once, I catch a flame in his eye and the undeniable spark between us that only grows every time we are together, intensified by the fact that for the moment we must suppress it.

However all this is side lined when my eyes fall on Legolas, dressed in a shimmering silver tunic, that is just a tad too big for him, paired with grey breeches and fine leather boots, he is every inch the little master. His soft flyaway shoulder length locks have been smoothed back from his face, held in place by the tiniest most adorable simple circlet. He hides shyly behind his Grandfather's and looks up at me with big blue eyes, all wonder filled and innocent. I beam at him, and he ducks his face into his Grandfather's robe making us all chuckle in unison.

Thranduil leans down and pulls something from his robe to press into his son's hand, he whispers something to him, and I watch with delight as Legolas nods manically in agreement to whatever was said. Thranduil moves aside and Legolas tiptoes timidly towards me, he pulls from behind his back a delicate pale pink rose and stretches it up to me, ducking his chin into his chest and avoiding eye contact.

"For me?" I gasp and kneel down to be at his level, this seems to bring him around and he nods with a bashful smile. I graciously take the flower from his grasp and inhale its floral scent.

"I picked it out for you Clara, all by myself," He suddenly states quite brightly, "Didn't I Ada?"

"Yes you did," Thranduil replies adoringly and even Oropher looks upon us quite indulgently.

"Yes he did and kept us late with all his indecision," Ithril chortles haughtily from the Thranduil's side, but there is a hint of boredom and irritation in her voice that suggests she is not one for fluffy moments such as these.

Legolas' little face crumples for a moment in mild embarrassment and I catch the indignant look Thranduil gives her, which she happily ignores. Instead I laugh and catch his chin with my hand;

"Well I am so glad you took your time, this rose is perfect and how did you know they were my favourite?" I ask and Legolas eyes light up as he launches into his tale;

"Because you said so when we were in the gardens by the barracks, you told me you liked those roses there, and I remembered and I took Ada right to the exact spot and showed him which one, because I am not allowed to pick themself in case I prick my fingers and get blood all over my new clothes."

This begins a new chorus of chuckling; all of us except Ithril seem amused by his little tale. Obviously I am not the only one that struggles with the concept of rambling.

"That is so thoughtful Legolas, I am so lucky to be going to the feast with you!" I sing and he grins, clearly delighted with himself, he throws his arms around me and we cuddle for a moment. I am well aware that this is probably not courtly manners but I love this kid to pieces, he just trailed his father halfway across the halls to get me a rose that I liked, he is getting a bear hug!

After our little exchange is complete we make for the great hall, somewhere I have not frequented often and am excited to see it all done up for the feast. I wave my goodbyes to Oliel and Gilron, Ollie mouthing that she will see me there and I nod grateful for the presence of a familiar face.

When we enter the great expanse of room, filled to the brim with elves both guests and servants, all stand to attention to welcome the King. I hear whispers weave through the crowd as the people register the Prince is in attendance, some gasp too as this will be the first time many have laid eyes on him since the attack. Not all the elves live in the King's halls; many live in farms and outlying districts of Oropher's realm, but in times of celebration they all flock to the hospitality of their King's table. So there is a great deal of neck craning and gossiping as they try and place my unfamiliar face. It is flattering and unnerving all at once, but I don't really care about me, I worry about Thranduil. He is retreating into himself, I can see his posture shrink and his shoulders sag under the judgment. I resist the urge to comfort him, because I cannot, it would only cause more tongues to loosen.

We reach the table at the top of the great room and after a nod from the King we are seated, along with all the guests, this is the sign that the feast has begun. Minstrels play in the background elegant tunes that suit the dining ambiance, and I take this moment to absorb my surroundings. The hall is massive, but at the far end it cuts into a series of archways that lead to a cultivated and stunning garden. Lanterns hang everywhere and winter flowers are stuffed in every available space, rich fir garlands decorate the roof beams and archways and several grand fireplaces are lit, filling the air with the scent of peat and roasting pine nuts.

As well as our little entourage, our table also seats noble lords and their ladies that own land or farms within the realm. Sindar elves that have chosen to make Oropher their King, and settle in Greenwood, these are the aristocracy of the Woodland Realm. Talk is pleasant but regrettably slightly dull as the men dominant the conversation with talk of weather, poor yields and the old days. Their wives are more agreeable and some have brought their children too. Leyla a chestnut haired, rosy cheeked and bright eyed elleth, whose husband owns some grain farms, sits closest to me. She has a young daughter and son around Legolas' age, and they have all seemed to strike up a friendship, making entertaining them a lot easier.

We ladies all converse merrily and even Ithril joins in occasionally, but she becomes bored easily when the conversation turns to children. I don't mind, any advice is happily received, and after all I don't have much experience of elf children. During the course of the chatter, one of the ladies admits she is expecting and the conversation turns ever more female orientated. I listen completely horrified yet masochistically fascinated by the tales of labour and childbirth, obviously being an elf does not mean it is any easier in fact it appears somewhat more gruelling. Ithril is disgusted by the conversation and for an elleth that teaches children I find her indifference bizarre.

She has been trying and failing for the past hour to gain attention from Thranduil. He is not in the least bit interested, and skips between polite conversation with the other lords, to whisperings and musing with his father, and slightly more animated conversations with his son. Since my main duty is caring for Legolas, Thranduil and I often converse with him and I know this grinds Ithril. Part of me is a little smug and the other part reminds me of Gilron's warnings, so out of politeness I attempt to keep conversation equal with everybody, often encouraging a discussion between Thranduil and her, but it is always strained. At least my conscience is clear and I have done the right thing.

After the meal the music tempo livens up and more wine is supplied, conversation turns away from shop talk and tongues are freer. Legolas and his new friends go off to dance and play and I flit between watching them and joining the conversations. With Legolas away the seat beside Thranduil is free and he encourages me to move up so I can join the conversation more easily, I don't initially oblige but Oropher insists and I register I am slowly but surely winning his approval. Still I keep a trained ear on my little charges voice, and another on the discussions that I realise has now turned to war and battle.

"How many battles have you survived now young prince," A dark haired elf lord with navy eyes teasingly asks Thranduil, and I whip my head around suddenly slightly concerned.

"Too many," he replies evenly and let's his gaze fall to the table.

"What is this?" Another ellon interjects, a broad shouldered elf that has the essence of someone who has fought in battles before; "The woodland Prince has lost his lust for war? Thranduil what did that dragon do to you?"

I slowly watch the colour drain from his features, and he draws a shaking hand to his temple, whilst the other slips under the table to rest on his knee. His breathing grows uneven and he attempts to try and laugh off their jesting, but he is quite literally shaking like a leaf;

"Come tell us of the fire drake Prince?" The dark haired elf encourages, "What bravery eh? I vow there will be tales told of you centuries from now!"

"Yes my lord," Ithril grins excitedly and bounces on her seat; "Tell us of the dragon, is the fire like they say? Could it melt iron?"

Is she serious? Is she that stupid! I frown at all of them and watch helplessly as Thranduil twitches visibly from the word melt. I don't know if it can melt iron but it bloody well melts flesh and bone, how tactless these fools are! The three elves start chattering at a ludicrous level about dragon fire and the damage they have heard it causes. Thranduil tries to verbalise something but his words are jumbled and incoherent whispers, stress filling his face and a cold sweat starting to form on his brow. I can't stop myself, he needs me!

I drop my hand under the table and find his; he grips his knee so tightly that I feel his fingernails make indents in the skin. I soothingly lace my hand around his so as not to startle him, and once he registers the sensation his eyes focus steadily in front of him and he clasps my hand tightly in his own. After a moment he lets his gaze drift to mine and I silently hold his attention, attempting to distract him from whatever dark memories that have taken hold in his mind.

After a few moments the chattering abruptly stops when Oropher, who was intently listening to Raffyn, catches on to the topic and scowls furiously at the three culprits;

"There will be no talk of dragon fire in my halls," he snaps, "Nor of battle or war, my son is resting, you will give him the respect of any retired veteran."

"Retired?" I mouth at Thranduil suddenly taken aback, this surely was not something he would want, not after the stories Gilron told me. He sighs and squeezes my hand, devastation evident in his features; he places my hand back on my lap and takes a settling breath before speaking to father;

"I do not believe that was agreed on just yet Adar," he says through gritted teeth.

"You have paid your dues son, you deserve an honourable discharge," Is all Oropher replies. There is a moment of strained silence and I see the storm clouds gather in Thranduil's eyes, and I know he is losing control of himself.

"Dammit!" Thranduil cries in a temper and slaps the table so hard we all jump; "Stop telling me what I can and cannot do!"

"Thranduil!" Oropher warns and apologetically glances at his guests, who uneasily squirm in their chairs, In a more gentle voice the King begins to salvage the situation; "Son calm down, this is just part of the trauma, the angry outbursts are very normal just take a moment have a drink and gather yourself."

"Fine let us drink hm?" Thranduil snaps back and lifts his full glass above his head and in one swift movement knocks it all back, He wipes the wine stain from his lips with the back of his hand and slams the glass down, before rising to his feet to storm off.

"Where are you going?" Oropher sighs as he rubs his temples with fingers.

"Taking a moment to gather my thoughts!" He snipes and strides off without another word.

I watch him disappear into the crowd and hope he has the good sense to search out Aradan, he can at least get through Thranduil's anger. I shake my head in disappointment at the thoughtless conversation that led to the outburst, I guess there were faults on all sides but considering everything I think Thranduil handled it well. I mean I was fully expecting him to crack the wine glass over his father's head, so one should always look at the positives.

Oropher apologizes one more time and the conversation resumes, but I am distracted now worrying about Thranduil. So instead I excuse myself to join in the dancing with Legolas and the other children. Soon I am laughing and twirling about the dance floor, singing songs and teaching the elflings how to dance. It is most entertaining and every now and again my gaze lands on our table and I catch the King nod approvingly at me, or he gestures to the guests about me. I am filled with pride and hope, maybe I have done enough to impress him or at least let him know I am serious about his family, and his Kingdom.

The night wears on and in the midst of dancing with Legolas to a particularly jovial tune, a familiar hand taps me on the shoulder and the two of us spin to regard Thranduil. He looks rather ashamed but I brush over the incident and the three of us engage in a hilarious group dance. Legolas is thrilled to bits that we are altogether and he repeatedly tells us that, he also informs us that he is glad Ithril stayed away and left us alone, but alas he spoke to soon. Once Thranduil was back in view she was over to steal him away for couples dancing, being that she was his guest he could not refuse her. Regardless I carried on having a good old time with my partner, Legolas was even kind enough to share me with some of the Lords from our table and even Aradan got a dance, but only because Oliel agreed to dance with Legolas.

It is past midnight and way past a certain young prince's bedtime when the guests start to filter out and the festivities wind down. The music is softer and more lulling, as love birds sway together on the floor, I am delighted to see Aradan and Oliel as one of those said couples all gooey eyed and giddy. Legolas is still vibrating with energy so in attempt to tire him out I unleash him in the cool gardens, and for the longest time the two of us meander about the pools and fountains gabbling away to each other.

He is quite taken with the reflections of the stars in the pools, and so lying on our bellies, we gaze into the water to see the stars through the cracks in the overhead rocks. I point out constellations I have learned from my studying, and because he is a child and none the wiser it does not matter if I am completely wrong, he believes me anyway. Once bored with that he is distracted by a few fireflies that have travelled in through the openings in the rock, and I watch over him as he tires himself out following them around. I am so absorbed by him that I do not realise someone has approached me until a shoe noisily scraps the gravel, alerting me to their presence.

"Ithril?" I gasp in confusion as I turn to regard the supreme beauty before me.

"Do you think I am blind?" she snaps angrily and I cock my head to the side in confusion. "I saw how you behaved with the Prince this evening? It is disgraceful, you think a few yards of silk can make you a lady! What exactly is your game? Weasel your way into the arms of a Prince to gain a roof over your head, and food in your belly? Are the streets not good enough for you, you little harlot!

"Pardon?" I practically choke, I don't think anyone has ever called me that before in my life. I would find it funny considering I have practically been celibate for longer than I dare to remember, but there is an edge to the insult that actually hurts me.

She sneers darkly and eye's me up and down like I am nothing but dirt; "You disgust me, you vile little creature!"

"I am not playing a game, this is my home and I serve the King," I mumble awkwardly, my cheeks burning from the insult.

"Oh spare me; do you serve his highness too?" She spits her nose wrinkling in disgust; "Your kind make me sick!"

"My kind?" My voice is barely a whisper, and I let my eyes wander over the garden, silently praying Legolas stays distracted long enough for me to end this conversation.

"Uneducated savages, living in trees and rocks like animals!" She scowls; "Your heathen ways ruin the reputation of the noble elves. I cannot even fathom how the Sindar live among you woodland rats, and for Thranduil to allow one as uncouth as you to care for his son is heinous! You will corrupt that child!

"How dare you!" I reply evenly and attempt to keep the tears from my voice; "Prince Thranduil is an honourable ellon, he loves his people and has fought for them more times than you can even fathom. Those tree rats are his people, this is his home and you come here to belittle what he and his father created! Who do you think you are?"

She stops for a moment not expecting my curveball approach to her insult; I thought it better to remind her that she is also sullying a Prince's name as well by her gross accusations.

"Furthermore I am not some harlot, I am a member of the King's court, and you should show me the respect I deserve!" I say with a commanding tone, surprising myself at the authoritative note to my voice. "I do not know what sort of place you hail from but around here we are respectful to each other, regardless of station. You would do well to learn some manners."

I just about finish the sentence when I feel her palm collide with my face with a cracking great slap. I see stars, actual stars and stagger backwards from the force. I automatically cup my stinging face and feel the welt begin to form, I have never been slapped before, and I am completely in shock! It takes a moment for the pain to register but when it does it reduces me to tears, oh good god it hurts like hell!

"You ignorant little pup, do you have any idea who I am!" She hisses menacingly into my face, "I could have the King lock you up for offending me!"

"Hey! Leave her alone!"

My head whips automatically to the sound of Legolas' voice, and I stretch out my hand in warning, but it is too late he charges Ithril and shoves her with all his might.

"Legolas it is okay, be a good boy and go to your Ada" I try and send him away but receive another slap for speaking.

"Stop it!" He cries out and attempts to wedge himself between Ithril and I, "You are not allowed to hurt her." She scowls angrily at him when he pulls violently at the sleeves of her dress; his eyes brimmed with panic and tears. She raises her hand in impatience and my eyes widen in shock at her violent temper.

She lashes out and catches Legolas hard across the chest, the force of the blow makes him topple back and fall quite heavily to the ground. I cry out and scramble forward terrified he has hit his head on the stone ground. His tiny circlet clatters noisily across the stones, and in that moment everything slows down.

Ithril's other hand is still raised as if too strike me again but she does not get that far, a long and scarred hand latches around her wrist, and from the side of my vision I make out another form gathering Legolas off the ground, but most of my attention is on the shocked look on Ithril's face as Thranduil twists her arm back and glares at her with a murderous look.

"You dare lift you hand to my son," Thranduil spits vehemently as he tosses Ithril like a rag doll before him. She has paled significantly and holds her hands out in protest;

"My lord your servant girl she was highly disrespectful, and the boy he got in the way!" She pleads and I still stand were I am glued to the spot shaking violently.

"He is no more than an infant" Thranduil roars at record levels; "And that servant girl is his nurse maid, if he felt you threatened her he was acting out of fear!"

"My lord you are frightening me," she gasps as he enters into her personal space in quite at threatening fashion; "The girl is bad for him, she has twice mocked me and you would defend her? My father would have something to say about this!"

"That girl?" His voice grows deadly calm and he cocks his head to the side; "That girl is a member of my Father's court, not some harlot as you so eloquently put it!"

The elf that has Legolas comes to my side and wraps an arm around my shoulder, I glance upwards to see it is Aradan. He is not looking at me as he waves for another to come forward, Legolas is sobbing quietly and does not protest when he is handed over to Oliel. I suddenly find my voice and quickly whisper for Ollie to get him away, no doubt Oropher will have heard the commotion but Aradan prompts her to inform him nonetheless, she wastes no time and scurries off. All the while Ithril is spewing out her defences and actually wailing at Thranduil, as if she has anything to cry about.

"Enough!" Thranduil roars his face so darkened that his usually glimmering eye is like splintering ice. His temper is breaking and I am suddenly fearful for Ithril, if he does not control himself he will rip her apart. Aradan is obviously concerned too and steps forward, holding out a hand in a peaceful gesture, but it is a little too late.

Ithril obviously attempts grovelling and lurches forward to grip Thranduil's robes, this is pretty much the worst thing she could have done. He doesn't respond well to touch, unless it is expected or done so in a soothing manner. He automatically grips her forearm in a mixture of panic and distrust, he holds the arm so tightly that I am concerned he will break it;

"Thranduil!" Aradan warns as calmly as he can.

"Why do you defend her?" Ithril cries in alarm, "She is a mongrel like the rest of these inbred savages!"

"Savages? Mongrels?" Aradan scowls and suddenly drops his concerned look.

Thranduil has lost it, I can see his mind just click, his expression is dark as night and his ability to reason has left him. I can't let him do something he will later regret, this isn't him and she has goaded him into this. As much as she does not deserve my mercy, I will not have her breaking the control Thranduil has painstakingly put together since his attack. Without hesitation I rush to his side and place my hands firmly on his shoulders stilling his shaking;

"No Thranduil!" I say as softly as I can manage, "She is not worth it; let it be, let it go!"

He predictably shirks away from me, but stops when he registers it is me holding him back. The ice cold eyes soften slightly, and I see in them a great deal of shock and disorientation. He robotically lets go of her arm and works hard to control his breathing, I rhythmically stroke his upper arm in my vain attempt to calm him. He turns his hate filled eyes back on Ithril;

"If you so much as look at my child again, even by mistake, I will toss you out in the gutter and you can find your own disgraced way back to your father!" He snarls vehemently and leans heavily into me like I am his anchor; "And if you ever use such words to describe my people again, my wrath will be the least of your worries you treacherous snake!"

"What in the name of the Valar is going on?"

We all startle at the approach of Oropher flanked by Raffyn and two guards, he eyes the scene before him with a mixture of shock and disapproval. His alarmed gaze lands on his son and I detect a hint of disappointment in his stare. Aradan quickly steps forward and relays the whole sorry tale, missing out no details, and Ithril just curls up on the ground and cries pitifully.

"Lady Ithril I am greatly disturbed," Oropher eventually speaks and strides to her quivering form; "You have not only betrayed my trust but you have assaulted my subject, and however unintended you struck my Grandson. These are serious offenses for which I will demand your punishment. You will be deported to your home in the morning, in disgrace to your Father, and dealings between our families will cease. Is that understood?"

Ithril just nods in defeat and immediately halts her tears; "As you wish your Majesty."

At this response Oropher has the guards and Aradan escort the disgraced Lindon Lady away, she will be under their custody for the remainder of the night. The King turns his attention on Thranduil and I, and continues his assessments;

"Clara be assured I will request a public apology from her house regarding this," He confirms and then looks upon my burning cheek with regret; "Child go take some rest, have one of the healers bathe your face. I am so very sorry my dear, truly I am."

I bow deeply and he smiles fondly, gesturing for one of the servants to assist me home or to the healing halls I am not quite sure which. As I turn to leave Oropher addresses his son and his voice grows angry;

"Just get out Thranduil," he sighs heavily; "And when you have calmed down I expect your presence in my quarters."

Thranduil does not even argue, he just bows swiftly and leaves without another word. I see the exasperation on the King's face and the confused hurt in Thranduil's, and I am powerless to do anything about it. What a perfectly rotten end to a beautiful night.


	14. Chapter 14

I vehemently protest to having the healers look at my face, I'm fine it was only a slap and I'll live. Instead I dart through the King's halls and find Legolas, who is peacefully sleeping in his chambers. I clamber atop his bed and stroke his blond curls, shaking my head and shedding a few disappointed tears. I should have been quicker, I should never have allowed him anywhere near that insane elf. In these moments I vow to not be so stupid again, to go with my gut instincts and fight for him. No one will ever touch him and if they do it will not be his father they have to be concerned with, I'll kill them myself! In fact I am contemplating finding Ithril and doing just that, but reason kicks in and reassures me his Grandfather has a handle on the situation.

"I'm so sorry kiddo," I mutter and kiss his forehead, "I promise I can do better than this."

With a sigh I sit up and sense the presence of another in his doorway, I know who it is and I turn to face the utterly devastated look of his father. I manage a small smile for Thranduil in the hopes of letting him know I am proud of him, but it doesn't seem to be working. I slide off the bed and cross the room to him, and once I am within reaching distance he takes hold of my arm and pulls me into his own chambers across the hallway. If I had of been paying any attention I would have noticed then that we were not the only ones in the dimly lit corridor, and I would have acted differently, but hindsight is a wonderful thing.

Once inside I stand quite forlornly in the middle of his slightly disorganised living space, and wait while he locks the door. He turns to face me with an expression I can only describe as shame and regret, and crosses the space between us in a few strides; he then cups my swollen face in his hands to examine it. This only seems to make his mood worse, and he attempts to verbalise an unnecessary apology;

"It was just a slap," I laugh softly and grip his hand with mine, taking a settling breathe I decide to off load my guilt; "I am so sorry, I didn't mean to put Legolas in danger. I didn't mean to put you in that situation!"

"Do not even…" he hisses and shuts his eyes tightly as if trying to dislodge a thought; "Stop apologizing you did nothing!" He snaps and then opens his eyes and they're unfocused, hopeless even; "I could have hurt her and I wanted to hurt her, this anger it is overwhelming, I do not understand it!"

"You wouldn't have hurt her," I try to quietly reason with him. His eyes are wild again with the same fearful confusion I have seen a handful of times before.

"Yes I would!" he snaps and grips my shoulder quite uncomfortably; "When she struck you, when she abused you, when she hurt my boy; I could not control the anger; I did not want to control it! Clara I enjoyed it and that frightens me, what if I did not stop? What would I have become?"

"But you did," I reply firmly and place my hands soothingly on his chest, "You stopped yourself."

"No you stopped me," He cries and leans heavily into me, his forehead resting against mine; "If I did not have you I would lose myself, my mind…it is sick!"

"Hey stop this!" I murmur and clasp my hands to his face, attempting to get his attention. There are real tears forming in his right eye and this is something new to me, he is never this vulnerable; "You are not going anywhere, there is nothing wrong with you!"

"No I am a beast I do not even recognize myself," he fights my comfort; he doesn't want to believe me. His eyes are wide with panic and my heart breaks for him, I don't know what else to do but kiss him. Not softly or in any way calming, but forceful enough to shock him or distract him. I won't let him believe that absurd lie, he is not broken he is just healing; there is nothing bestial about him.

The kiss is met with a brief stunned silence before he captures my mouth with his and with such force it steals my breath away. Hands get tangled in hair and limbs get entwined within seconds, as we both steadily loss any sense of control. Thranduil's confusion and my frustration, coupled with endless months of being careful and suppressing our desires, has naturally led to this, all we needed was the adrenaline to ignite us.

We stagger backwards and I feel my back hit the wall with a loud thud, somewhere in the delirium I register the sound of something falling off a shelf and smashing on the ground. I ignore it though; my hands are too busy ripping off his silver robes and deftly removing his tunic. My lips find his chest, his skin hot and salty to taste, his seductive gravelly sighs and groans are only sending me further into a frenzy. Though it's not long before he takes some of the control back, the skirts of my dress are hoisted somewhere around my waist as he lifts me off the ground and pushes me onto a table, or a ledge, a piece of low shelving? I don't know and I really don't care, I wrap my legs around his waist and draw him closer to me only realising at this point it is a table, as I hear the tell-tale sounds of books and scrolls clattering to the ground, our violent thrashing destroying everything in our path, I'm sure if the room will still be standing after this! Hands, hands are everywhere, there is not one part of my body he hasn't caressed or explored with rough and forceful motions, but my over complicated and ridiculous dress is in the way and I'm all too eager to help him get me out of it. In our extremely heated and intense exchange the overlay of the dress gets ripped in the process of removal, this only succeeds in trebling my desire.

I'm slowly sinking into oblivion, getting lost in his body, his scent and his taste, marvelling at his strength and delighting in the reactions I gain from him when I touch him. Thranduil lets one hand trace up my spine and cradle around my neck grasping fistfuls of my hair to gently pull my head back, giving him better access to my neck and chest, as he plants desperate kisses there, occasionally grazing the vulnerable skin with his teeth. The silken underdress that I am wearing, is slipping dangerously low, my heart is beating so loudly that it is deafening in my ears and I can barely breathe as his other hand creeps up my hip and pauses just shy of the scrunched up hems of my dress. His lips return to mine briefly and for the length of heartbeat everything freezes;

"Don't stop," I hear myself plead, my voice barely more than a fluttery whisper.

"I have too," he replies with an equally weak voice that suggests I could persuade him otherwise.

"I don't want you too," I push and kiss him quite feverishly again; I smile triumphantly when for a split second I seem to have won. For with a moan that sends shivers up my spine, Thranduil tightly grips the gathered fabric of my dress and for a moment I believe he is going to rip it off me. But his hand steadies and he breaks the kiss to eye me with a regretful look;

"No, not like this," he gasps breathlessly and takes my face in his hands, frowning slightly at my ever so disgruntled look.

"Like what?" I sigh and let my fingers trail down his bare chest longingly. How is he able to stop himself? Does he realise I am about several seconds away from combusting? He is going to kill me!

"Not in the shadows, not like some forbidden tryst," He answers my questions with a forceful and resolute look. Part of me is thrilled to bits that he is attempting to protect my honour, it is so refreshing and ultimately makes me feel that much more desirable. But in the moment I really could not care for my honour, I want to be very dishonourable and his is ruining it, and now I feel like the villain taking advantage of this poor vulnerable ellon's fragile emotions!

"You are angry?" Thranduil observes and stress creeps into his features again.

"No I'm not angry," I grumble, which I recognise as a contradictory tone, so I sigh and attempt to sound less disappointed; "I understand that you don't want too."

"Oh I want too," he gives me a serious look and I tilt my head to the side in confusion, so he gathers I want an explanation; "When this happens I don't want it to be distorted by bleak memories, or dark thoughts. When I bind with you, I do not want it to be in this weak frame of mind you deserve so much more."

"I don't mind, you really don't have to be so considerate!" I interject quickly and throw my arms around his neck drawing him close for a deep kiss. I'm only playing around, I understand what he is saying and truthfully it makes me fall even deeper in love with him.

"Clara!" He manages to mutter my name out as a half-hearted warning against my lips. I stop and stifle a snigger at his exasperated look as our foreheads touch and he shakes his head at me; "You are going to break me!"

"Ditto!" I reply and he chuckles and rests his head in the curves of my neck. I set my check against his head and for a few quiet moments we just hold each other, and attempt to cool down. Thranduil's breath is still ragged and my heart is still flying, and I doubt I will be able to stop blushing furiously for the next forty-eight hours! The minutes tick slowly by and eventually Thranduil's sighs and absently plays with a lock of my messed up hair.

"How is the anger?" I murmur when I can eventually trust my voice.

"No longer an immediate concern," he confirms with a lazy tone that makes me smirk.

"See all you need is an outlet, a distraction, I am sure we can think of different ways to manage it when it rears its ugly head." I start to chatter, my mind suddenly making lists of good stress relieving activities for him, but his arms tighten around my waist and he takes me off guard with a kiss on my neck, silencing me instantly;

"Oh no no, this is a good outlet, I like this one!" He states with a gravelly voice filled with longing; "I can see this working, tis very helpful to my recovery."

"Yea nice try but if I have to behave myself so do you!" I snigger and bury my face in his hair, locking my arms around him tighter as the two of laugh in unison.

One more lingering kiss later and Thranduil helps me off the table and we redress. With regret I realise that I am going to have to have my dress mended, it obviously was not designed to withstand such passionate aggression. So in the meantime Thranduil wraps me up in one of his burgundy robes, which I intend on stealing and keeping for myself; mostly because it is large and comfortable and secondly because it smells of him. I am such a love sick puppy. With his arm wrapped around my waist we exit his chambers, and he does not show any signs of letting me go or dulling down his affections. We kiss and murmur endearments to one another and I am completely wrapped up in him. The horrible events earlier in the night seem like a distant memory now and it seems nothing can touch us in our state of bliss. For a moment everything is good and as it should be.

We are in no hurry to separate and instead of returning to my chambers Thranduil takes me on a stroll through the caves. Dawn is coming and since we've been awake this long it seems pointless attempting to find any rest. Besides sleep will not come for me tonight, my mind is too boggled by the events that have passed both good and bad. So I think in our own bizarre way we are making our own distractions, visiting our favourite places and discussing all the things I should like to see. One of these destinations is the famed throne room, not very adventurous I admit but I have never set foot in it because there has been no need too, though I am curious as to what it looks like. So after much persuading Thranduil agrees to take me there, baffled as to why I am so interested in something so dull.

The throne room is exactly what I was expecting and probably even more so; the great carven throne dominates the larger of the split level pavilion. Two silent and still figures flank the marble steps that lead to the elevated pavilion before the dais of the throne itself; guards dressed in the finest of armour brandishing ceremonial swords and shields, still the steel of the blades sheen and I imagine there purpose is not just for show. They do not even blink or acknowledge our presence, their eyes fixed and ever watchful, it is not until we climb the steps do they stand attention for Thranduil but it is only for a moment and they return instantly to their guarded position.

The room is decorated with the dark green banners of the Kingdom, mosaic and gold flecked tiles make swirling and dreamy patterns below my feet. Two great ornamental hearth torches burn with glittering flames from golden bowls, before the foot that of the throne, or thrones I should say. On closer inspection I see that there are two distinct seats beside the grand throne; a place for a Queen and a Prince, and again I am reminded of who Thranduil really is. I skip up the dais' steps and observe the thrones, running my hands along the wood acutely aware how Thranduil watches me intently;

"So," I begin causally," His majesty sits here?" and I point to the grand and rather intimidating throne that exudes power and wealth, Thranduil nods and I carry on my examination; "And your Mother? She would have sat where?"

"At my Father's left side," he replies and joins me at the top of the stairs, with his hands clasped behind his back.

"Ah I see, and why is that?" I ask curiously and eye the slender and more feminine throne at the left, decorated with carven roses and ivy, so perfect in craftsmanship that you would almost think they were real and not made of wood.

"The queen consort always sits by her husband's left side, as a spectator, always listening and observing, she is the image of quiet strength and dignity," he answers me like he is rhyming off a well-practised speech.

"Oh I would have thought she would sit on the right?" I wonder out loud and Thranduil chuckles indulgently at my ignorance.

"No to sit at the right hand side of a King is a place of honour," he sighs and strides to the place by the right of the throne, eyeing it with a great deal of reverence. "To sit by his right side is to have his favour."

"So who sits by your Father's right side?" I ask timidly but I already know the answer, it just fills me with a certain amount of awe to consider the truth.

Thranduil turns his gaze on me and gives me lopsided grin, before dramatically swivelling on the heel of his boot and elegantly taking a seat on the finer throne, it is almost identical to the King's only slightly less elaborate but no less grand;

"I do," he confirms with a nod and suddenly before my very eyes, he changes slightly, his posture is straighter, his expression cool and his presence more commanding.

"Oh I get it," I squeak slightly in awe; "The second in command sits on the right. I feel I should bow or curtsy or something?"

"You should," Thranduil mocks and inclines back, and raises an eyebrow at me. "Technically while I am seated here I am holding court, all subjects are expected to bow when they bring their pleas or requests before me."

I raise an eyebrow right back at his confidence that slightly verges on egotistical, but nevertheless I complete my best and most humble of curtsies. I hear his sharp intake of breath and am suddenly being yanked upright by his strong grip of my arm;

"Stop that!" he gasps and hauls me onto his lap, shaking his head vigorously; "You never ever bow to me!"

"Oh preferential treatment, that is very bad practice for a Prince," I giggle as he snakes his arms around my waist and keeps me pinned to the throne with him.

"Then I am a terrible excuse for a Prince," Thranduil chuckles and pulls my face to his for a slow and smouldering kiss, that cuts off my senses so the only thing I am aware of is him. I know there are two armed guards several feet in front of us with their backs turned on us, and I probably should stop this display of affection before it causes a problem but in my stupidity I don't. And it is in my stupidity and carelessness that the unexpected happens.

"Yes it would appear he is!"

The voice turns my blood cold, I instantly break away from the kiss and freeze like a petrified animal. Thranduil's head snaps up so fast that the movement is barely discernable, his eyes are huge and his expression so shocked I consider that he may have lost the ability to speak. I don't dare look because I know who it is, it is Oropher, the voice is unmistakable and he sounds furious.

"Adar?" Thranduil actually manages to splutter and fluidly brings us both into standing; oh crap I am going to have to face the King. I nervously peek at Oropher who is standing before his own throne glaring daggers at his son, but he is yet to acknowledge me and I am not sure if this is a good thing or not.

"Do not 'adar,' me!" He snaps anger contorting his usually ethereal features; "Get off that throne before I remove your privilege to sit on it!"

"Adar I can explain?" Thranduil attempts to speak and laces his fingers with mine to lead me down the steps to stand before his infuriated father.

"Explain what exactly?" Oropher growls, his voice low and menacing; "How you abuse your title? How you shame yourself and your King by consorting with barely of age ellith in a disgraceful manner? Lurking around in hallways at night is barely tolerable but blatantly engaging in such degrading behaviour here, in the hall of your Father, without even a hint of shame or regret! I am at a loss Thranduil, I really am!"

"It is my fault," I blurt out before Thranduil has a chance to reply. I shrink from Oropher's enraged glare but bow and continue nevertheless, "I asked him to bring me here, I realise now that what you beheld was extremely disrespectful and I am truly sorry, but-"

"I am sorry too," Oropher quips cutting me off before I can say anymore; "I am sorry that my son has charmed you into acting so unbecoming of a lady of my court, that he would use you so carelessly for his own pleasures!"

"I am not using her!" Thranduil snaps suddenly equally as furious as his father, Oropher frowns at his son's suddenly vicious tone and is about to contradict him, but Thranduil cuts him off; "I love her!"

Both Oropher and I are stunned to silence, I gawp at Thranduil and he looks at me with an apologetic expression. Obviously he is sorry I should find out this way that this is how he feels, and yes I guess the hope of a grand romantic gesture is long gone, but he loves me, he confessed it and I would sing if it were not for the terrible circumstances in which we now find ourselves.

"What are you saying?" The King speaks first his voice void of emotion, cold and calculating. I don't like it.

"Adar I apologize for the scene you beheld, I admit it was careless but it was not intentional," Thranduil's tone is calm and reasonable as he explains himself; "But this is not nothing, I am in love with Clara and I had intended on presenting her to you in the coming days, I regret that you had to find out like this but at least you know now."

"And you just expect me to accept this?" Oropher replies evenly, eyeing me with an appraising look that makes me shrink into myself. "You expect me to allow some unknown elleth into my family? Into my Grandson's life?"

"Legolas is not your concern!" Thranduil snaps and I gather this is a sore point of discussion as there is an edge of exasperation to his words. "Who I decide to bring into my son's life is my own decision not yours! And yes Ada I do expect you to accept it!"

"Of course it is my concern!" Oropher shouts back his temper flaring; "How on earth do you expect me to explain to our people, or to the other noble houses who she is? We know nothing about her, who she is or where she hails from! You are a Prince Thranduil you do not have the luxury of falling in love with whomever you please!"

"I really do not care what you tell the other nobles," Thranduil sniffs haughtily; "And furthermore Adar I did marry for the purposes of furthering the Kingdom and out of duty to you. Shall I remind you how that ended? So I do believe your point is invalid, I have done everything you asked of me before and I still ended up disgracing you. So why should it matter now, the damage is done what more can they say about me?"

The slanging match between the pair continues in their own tongue, Oropher launching into a tirade of Sindarin words that spill so fast from his mouth that I haven't a hope of translating them. Thranduil grows ever more despondent and disinterested in his Father's concerns, although he occasionally answers with pleas and soft sounding words. Every so often he looks to me with an apologetic grimace, and I grow ever more uncomfortable with the situation. Eventually Oropher loses patience and cuts off Thranduil with a wave of his hand, and to my horror he turns to me and I automatically bow deeply in response to his indifferent gaze;

"Raffyn!" He calls out to his chief advisor who I did not realize was skulking in the shadows of the great hall, the wiry elf is at his side in less than a second and bows deeply to all of us; "Please assist Lady Clara back to her quarters, she is to remain on house arrest until I have sorted this indiscretion. She is not to engage in her duties and she may not have any contact with my Grandson until I say otherwise."

"Oh for the love of all that is holy she is not a criminal!" Thranduil snarls in frustration; "You cannot keep Legolas from her that is a sin before the Valar! It is cruelty, he is only a child! You cannot remove her from his life!"

"You will not speak any more on the subject!" Oropher replies icily and Thranduil is about to start roaring again when I throw up my hands in a show of surrender;

"It is fine!" I say quickly and bow again for the King; "Your Majesty I am so sorry to have caused you any heartache that was not my intent. But before I go you must know this; I love your son very much, but I am also dedicated to your grandson. I would not do anything to jeopardize the relationship I have with him, nor would I put him in any danger. I understand and echo your concerns they are just, and you have every right to be suspicious but may I implore you to give me a chance to prove this to you?"

I cross all fingers and toes and keep my eyes downcast, hoping I have done enough to at least make Oropher consider my plea for a moment. I understand his anger and his distrust, why on earth would he want some silly little girl snooping around his vulnerable son? For all he knows I could be taking advantage of Thranduil's weakened state to hoist my way up the social ladder, like a certain other she elf that shall not be named! I dearly hope that isn't what he thinks of me, but I do expect he is concerned and worried. He has spent the majority of the past decade shielding his Grandson from his parent's mistakes, and ultimately attempting to put his own son back together, numerous times by the sounds of it. To him I could be the very thing that wrecks his hard fought peace, and puts a wedge between him and his son. I will not be the cause of that, if anything I want to help matters not hinder them, so with that in mind I leave with Raffyn. Oropher does not reply to my plea, only giving me a curt nod and as much as that irritates me I have to recognize that he is a King, and King's are not answerable to nurse maids.

xXx

The day is long, trapped in my home under strict supervision of Raffyn, who is as silent as ever. I clean everything in sight and when I run out of things to clean, I start cleaning them again. Oliel returns and is infuriated by my treatment, but I tell her to not fuss. I appreciate her unwavering support but I am at peace with the King's requests. However I miss Legolas, and I yearn to see him after the events of last night. I am sure he is confused as to why I am not with him, and I worry he thinks I have abandoned him when he needs me most. Oliel is put in charge of his care and she tries to assure me she will deal with his questions as sensitively as she can. I trust her to do so but I still feel incredible guilty, this was such rotten timing!

By late morning I am pacing the floor like a caged lioness, I detest being held against my will, it reminds me of my years of isolated childhood. I do not do well under the command of others, I have fought for my freedom and as much as I respect Oropher he cannot expect me to live like this. I rationalise that he does not intend to keep me prisoner, and keeping me within his home is only his way of controlling the fallout. He can't have me running off wailing my injustices to the world at being denied to love a prince, I wouldn't do that but he doesn't know that. Keeping Legolas from me is my only gripe, I need to see him and I am not coping well with the separation. I am worried sick about him, not convinced that he has been checked thoroughly for injury after Ithril's attack, and yes attack is a dramatic notion but in my eyes that is what it was, a malicious attack on a helpless child.

My stress levels are hitting record levels and I cannot touch the lunch Raffyn tries to feed me. My incessant pacing and manic cleaning has disturbed him greatly, and in his way he is trying to calm me. He tries to offer me light conversation but I don't bite and he returns to his pensive silence watching me warily. By afternoon I am cracking up, so I do the only thing I do when I cannot escape my problems, I paint.

I rearrange the living room, shoving the tables and settles about to give me a good space to work on the floor. There is a very large piece of slate that is in the garden, I have Raffyn help me haul it into position on the floor of the lounge, and then I go fetch my oil based paints and change my clothes. Dressed in the tunic I stole from Thranduil a few weeks ago, I pin my hair back in a messy clump atop my head and just pour out my anger and bitter disappointment on said slate. I don't use brushes, just my hands; I like to feel the connection with the slate and myself. In my bizarre artists mind it helps me expel a lot of my pent up energy, to use myself as the tool to paint.

The afternoon is drawing to a close when Raffyn announces to me that I need to cease my painting, as the King has come to speak with me. I nod to him and rub my head with the back of my hand, my hair is falling out of place and my face is flushed from erratic painting. I am a sight to behold I am sure, every inch of me is plastered in dark coloured paint but there is nothing I can do about it now. So I stand to my feet when Oropher enters and bow, choosing to ignore the alarmed look he gives me in my haphazard state.

We don't speak for the longest time and he just stands there and absorbs his surroundings. I kneel back down before my creation, and start putting away my paints and attempting to scrub some of the colour off my hands and wrists in the basin of now cool water. I am aware after a few moments that he stands over me, and timidly I peek up at him to register he is observing my painting;

"You paint beautifully," he comments evenly and tilts his head to the side in consideration; "But your night sky lacks more stars, it is very bleak looking."

"It was a dark night," I reply numbly.

"Twas," he answers me with a knowing look and takes a seat on one of the disarray sofas. "You realise I am not here to admire your talent Lady Clara."

"I realise that," I mutter and feel my shoulders sag at the impending judgment. It cannot be good, if it was good Thranduil would be here and he is not. I feel my throat constrict with the thought of not seeing him and I daren't let my mind wonder over Legolas. With a sigh the King motions for Raffyn to leave and then settles me with serious look;

"I am tired Clara," he says with a weary voice that takes me off guard, "I am so very tired. The forest is losing its appeal to me, and the days feel too long and the nights…the nights are cold and oppressive. I am fading, you understand this term?"

I shake my head in response and bite my lip. I was not expecting this sort of lecture;

"My heart is no longer here, it is in the west and I am so ready to follow it there," he replies and I suddenly understand. He wants to follow his wife; he has had enough of the separation and time is slowly grinding him down. He pauses for a moment in memory, and then continues; "But It seems that this is not the will of the Valar. I am needed here still and although my desire to leave is great, my desire to do right by my family and my people is greater."

"Why are you telling me this?" I ask in a timid voice thick with tears, in some strange way I don't want him to leave, what would Greenwood be without him? How would we go on, he is our King?

"Because you need to understand child," Oropher turns his fixed gaze on me and it is weighted with such ancient responsibility; "I had intended to pass the crown to Thranduil, that is what I was preparing him for, and though I never told him of my intentions I know deep down he was well aware of them. That is why he agreed upon a forced marriage between kingdoms, and though he suffered for it he does not regret Legolas. Anyway there is no use on dwelling on mistakes, things were set in motion and he was ready."

"But then he fell in battle to the dragon," I blurt out in a sob, understanding suddenly what a long way down Thranduil actually did fall. The elf I know now is not in a place to rule a Kingdom; he can barely rule his own emotions. Oh this is awful, their world was ripped apart! All the well laid plans and all the hope for the future gone is a split second, quite literally being burned up in front of them!

"Now you see?" Oropher replies his usually melodic voice rough with his own unshed tears; "I cannot leave now, nor would I even want too. The world outside this Kingdom is in a perilous position and my own family hangs on by a thread, no I am afraid this is where I am intended to be. However I am sure you are wondering why this has anything to do with you and my son."

"I think I can guess," I say with a wary voice, and drop my gaze.

"I do not trust you, but only because I do not know you," he says quite directly and I lift my eyes to meet his gaze; "Though Thranduil tells me you are special, I think he used the term gift, fanciful fool that he is. I will not deny that you obviously reach him in a way I cannot, and the adoration you have for my Grandson is apparent for all to see. That being said you are the farthest thing from what I deem a suitable match for a Prince, in this sense you do not impress me! However Thranduil is beyond reason and I see it is folly to try and separate him from you, it will not be good for him."

My mouth hits the ground and my heart starts to hammer again, is it appropriate to hug a King? Yes I know he obviously is horrified by the idea but he is not going to stop it! He stands to his feet in one fluid motion and glares down at me with challenging eyes;

"You will not have claim to the throne Clara, you are not a Princess! Unless you can impress me otherwise, you will not have that right! But I will not stand in the way of any happiness my son finds, only the Valar know how much he deserves it. So Clara if you are serious, if you do love my family in the way you so reverently vowed, then impress me!"

And with that he sweeps out of the room, only to pause at the door and sigh loudly in exasperation at whoever is there, and with a breezy voice states, "You can come in now!" and in a flurry of movement a blonde blur of energy streaks through the room and into my arms.

"Legolas!" I cry in relief and throw my arms around him, pulling him tight to me and getting paint all over his clean tunic.

"Clara," he sobs into my chest and grabs fistfuls of my hair in his hands; "You didn't come, you were not there this morning when I woke, and neither was Ada, what did I do? Am I in trouble for hurting Ithril?"

"Oh baby I'm sorry," I gasp back my own sobs and bury my face in his hair breathing in his scent, "You did nothing, you were so brave, and Ithril is in trouble for hurting you!" I pull him back to observe him, clutching his head and running my fingers through his hair looking for a bump or bruising, mercifully there is none! "You are not hurt?"

"No," he grumbles and eyes me with a certain degree of irritation, which I deserve. "Is she coming back?"

"No!" I say resolutely and shake my head vigorously; "Your Ada put her in her place, and he told her he would toss her in the gutter if she ever looked at you again!"

"Good!" He laughs brightly and wipes away his tears with his sleeve; "You promise not to disappear again?" he asks worriedly.

"I promise!" I cry and clutch him tightly to my chest again; "I promise I am not going anywhere!"

"Never ever?" he mumbles from his squashed up position against my shoulder.

"Nope! Never!" I giggle breathlessly and pepper his face and head in kisses. This makes him squirm and laugh, as he tries to get away from me but I'm just too thrilled to have him safe with me. Oropher watches us for a moment, and I catch a fond look in his eyes but it is quickly replaced with an indifferent expression.

"Legolas?" He gruffly asks gaining his Grandson's attention; "You will see Clara in the morning, come your dinner will be getting cold."

"But," Legolas starts and gives me a frantic look. "But can I not stay with Clara,"

"No, not tonight, Clara needs her rest," Oropher states with an authoritative look that suggests he will not be argued with. "Come you will have her all day tomorrow I am sure."

Legolas sighs in defeat and throws his arms around me one last time, before scurrying back to his Grandfather who gestures for Raffyn to take him back to their private quarters. Before Oropher follows suit I jump to my feet and outstretch my hand, begging him to stop for a moment, and he actually pauses;

"Thank you!" I whisper hoarsely, "You have no idea how much that meant to me."

"I am not cruel," Oropher answers me with a scowl, but it disappears and a faint smile creeps across his lips; "Legolas is hard to refuse, and he has me twisted around his little finger. You Clara are untouchable because of my grandson!"

I laugh softly, not in a disrespectful way and by the peaceful expression on the King's face I know he understands my reaction. I curtsy one last time and Oropher leaves without another word. Once on my own I drift about the living space, reorganizing it, and eventually I pour another warm bowl of water from the kettle on the hearth to wash myself with. I am exhausted from the events, so emotionally and physically drained that I can barely find the strength to wash off the caked on paint. So I just sit by the fire and lazily slop the water about myself, too numb to really think through all the revelations. I will consider how to impress his majesty later, at this exact moment I am just too relieved that I can keep Legolas in my life, and stay with Thranduil. I am also eternally grateful that I have not lost my home or my employment, though I doubt I can continue calling myself Legolas' nurse maid if Thranduil and I go official. Oh my head it hurts just trying to come up with answers for myself. I lean back against a settle and close my eyes, attempting to quiet my mind and find some rest.

This is when Thranduil finally makes an appearance, I hear him enter the lounge before he even knows I am here, and I smile at the comfort his presence brings. I keep my eyes shut right up until he is hovering above me, his strong hands clamp around my forearms and I lazily peek up at him through half lidded eyes. He seems relaxed and just as relieved as I am, he smirks and pulls me upwards from my seated position.

"What?" I groan as I find my feet, and he wraps an arm around my waist to secure me, "Where do you want me to go now?"

"Walk with me," he commands with a soft voice, and I get lost in the glimmer of his eyes, that are gentle again. No longer wild and unsettled but composed with just the hint of mischief, which always leaves me guessing as to what he is really up to.

So I agree to walk with him and he leads me through the caves to the opening above the now silent markets. The very first place he ever took me, and so we climb to the mouth of the cave and he lets me wander in front of him as I get just as awestruck as did the first time around. The first of the evening stars have started to light up the sky as we traverse the ledges, and this time I lead the way with confidence and ease. I do not forget the grassy ledge where I first heard the tones of the forest; it was a defining moment for me, as was the insane jump but I don't think we'll be diving tonight. Thranduil is hardly dressed for such adventures in his heavy green robes, though he is unpredictable and he just might be that crazy.

I stand on the very edge and breathe deeply, completely at ease and I am quite pleased with my obvious growth in confidence. A few months ago I would not have believed myself capable of these physical feats. Thranduil joins me and we both stare up at night sky, much brighter than the one I painted on the slate. For the longest time we are quiet, but eventually curiosity gets the better of me;

"The trees are restful," I murmur and he smiles and nods in agreement.

"You soon will not need my help," he answers and turns to give me a rueful look; "I will miss that."

I laugh brightly and shake my head in disagreement, turning on my heel I saunter over to a few scattered boulders and sit down. I pluck a sprig of the night blooming jasmine, how I love this shrubbery, it grows in multitudes in Gilron's garden and the scent is divine. I examine the sprig carefully and then with a sigh peek up at Thranduil;

"It is me we are talking about I will always need you," I chuckle and roll my eyes; "But why are we here?"

"It seemed right to do this here," he answers and causally observes our surroundings; "The place I first felt your fea, admittedly that was forward of me but I could not help it, I think I knew then."

"Knew what?" I murmur unsure of the new look in his eyes; I have never seen that look before. Thranduil comes to kneel before me, first cupping my face in his hands and then sliding them down my neck and shoulders, until he at last holds my now quivering hands.

"That I was in love with you," he answers my question like it is something I should already know; "Clara I know what my father said to you."

"You know that he wants me to impress him," I mutter and sigh at the very thought of the mammoth task I have ahead of me; "its okay though he has every right to demand I prove myself, and I will, I love you and Legolas enough to fight for this. Just you wait and see by the time I'm finished your Ada will love me!"

"You do not need to impress another soul, you have done enough, Adar is just being difficult!" Thranduil sighs but then chuckles softly and I give him a perplexed look, so he elaborates; "He does not believe I am serious, you see I had a habit of falling in love easily as a youth, he seriously underestimates me."

"He does," I confirm with a chuckle of my own and lift my palm to place it on the left hand side of his face, the way he likes; "But it is because he worries, you're hurting and he can't make it better, and I think in his own way he is being difficult in his attempt to protect you. After all I am a complete stranger that literally appeared in his Kingdom."

"You are too understanding Clara," he laughs softly and holds my hand against his cheek, "But if he wants proof that I am serious than he shall have it."

"What do you mean?" I question him, as he presses his forehead to mine and gives me a look that steals my very breath away. I cannot even fathom the starlight sparkle in his eyes, I don't understand, I can't guess what he is thinking?

A small smile plays on his lips and he presses something small and metallic into the palm of the my hand. I feel my brows furrow in confusion and drop my gaze to examine the object. There in my palm is a slender silver ring, designed to appear like knotted and entwined ivy. I hear my breathing hitch and my heart starts to fly again, I lift my confused gaze to meet his slightly amused, but mostly unfathomable stare;

"What? I…don't understand…what are you….what is this?" I ramble and blush deeply, ashamed at my inability to actually form coherent words. You think by now I could form a logical sentence! I drop my hand from his face and cup the beautiful ring in my hands, and drop my gaze, still completely unable to gather my scrambled thoughts.

"Clara?" He asks gently and takes my face in his hands again, coaxing me to look at him. His expression slightly anxious and there is a flash of uncertainty in his eyes, but for the most part he just looks in love, he looks like I feel and I cannot breathe as he takes a settling breathe and strokes loose strands of my hair back from my face. With a look that holds no regrets he eventually says what I have been waiting to hear;

"Will you stay with me? Will you be my wife?"


	15. Chapter 15

I study the silver ring, snaking around the index finger of my right hand, this the correct place to put an elven engagement ring. Thranduil had been very perplexed when I tried to put it on the ring finger of my left hand. Though I was too busy sobbing and nodding incessantly, for him to think anything of it, he had laughed in between happy tears and corrected my mistake without another word. He kissed me, and I practically assaulted him in return, knocking him to the ground in my passionate enthusiasm. We laughed and we kissed, and I cried some more like the incredibly composed creature that I am, until I was utterly spent, all my emotions just leaving me pleasantly numb.

Now I lie upon his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart and I know I am home. What I thought was impossible is now within my grasp; the love of another and the makings of my own family. My heart is finally open and for the first time in long years I am truly happy, I now know that contentment is possible. Still there is the fear of the future, Oropher spoke of the dangers of the outside world, but for tonight they are not real. Here under the protection of the great wood, with a host of stars flooding this place in glittering hopeful light, I am not fearful and can dream of the happiness ahead. We lie like this for hours and drift in and out of peaceful dream states, it is not until the sky turns grey and the first of the birds begin to herald in dawn, do Thranduil and I make our way back into the sanctuary of the caves.

Thranduil leaves me to my chambers and with a chaste kiss he reminds me he will come by later in the morning with Legolas. We intend to take him out into the forest and spend some time with him; Thranduil wants to tell him today. He also will inform his father too, this left me feeling a little nauseous but he told me not to concern myself with it, he will handle that situation and I am quite happy to let him. Once alone in my chambers I take my time to bathe, and slowly put myself back together again after a grueling few weeks. I feel much better when I emerge from my room, clean, tidy and reenergised. Oliel is the first to find me humming to myself in the garden, as I quietly sup a cup of sweet tea.

"Well everything must have played out quite well!" Oliel exclaims as she joins me with her own tea cup and gives me a delighted grin; "That smile on your face tells me all I need to know!"

"Not everything," I tease and let my gaze flit about the garden, I have no intentions of giving away my secret just yet.

"What do you mean?" She frowns and shuffles closer to me, suddenly wide eyed and curious. "Oh Clara what disgraceful behaviour did you pair get up to?" She titters and shakes her head in all too obvious way.

"Well we did have some fun," I confess and slowly outstretch my right hand casually as if I am observing my nails; "but nothing that bad, I've told you before he is frustratingly in control of himself."

"Then what are you being so coy about?" Oliel plonks her tea cup down and eyes me with a not so impressed look.

"Guess?" I grin at her dismayed expression.

"I do not know! Oh stop teasing me!" She cries and gives me a wide eyed pleading look, which melts my resolve.

"Oh I don't know," I sigh and bring my right hand up to my face to push a strand of my hair behind my ears. I catch how her eyes pop when she clocks the ring, "It really is not a big thing but-"

"CLARA!" Oliel shrieks at new record levels, she is so loud that I jump back several feet.

"Ow! My ear Ollie…my actual ear! Good grief I'm deaf!" I complain and note that yes indeed my ears are ringing.

"Shut up, shut up, shut up!" she chants, still at a high pitched keen, that I believe only dogs could hear; "Let me see!" Forcefully she yanks my right hand to her face and diligently examines the ring. I giggle at her mannerisms because quite frankly she learned this behaviour from me.

"Well do you approve?" I ask and patiently await her verdict.

"Oh Clara it is beautiful, and so perfect and you have no idea how long Aradan and I have been waiting on this! I cannot wait to tell him and Nana too, oh Clara you and Thranduil must come to my home to show Naneth. It will make her so happy to see you two together, and tell me what is his ring like?"

"His ring?" I ask completely bemused.

"Yes both the intended wear rings to signify their promise to one another, then these are exchanged whenever the decision is made to be unified and the marriage jewels are worn thereafter to show the couple are husband and wife." Oliel explains in a very matter of fact tone. "These rings are often much grander, one of kind pieces, depending on your social status will depend how magnificent they are…Clara…just think of the jewel Thranduil will have made for you!"

"You mean I have to get Thranduil a ring too?" I say with a shocked expression, "but I don't even know where to start looking."

"Oh he probably has one set aside, he will know that you don't understand the traditions," Oliel dismisses my concerns, "Thranduil is nothing but thorough, he would have not been so presumptuous as to wear his ring without your agreement."

"So I shouldn't worry?"

"No! Now come tell me everything, from the very beginning!"

So I start from the very beginning, the fallout from the feast, the heated exchange, being caught on by the King and the eventual proposal. Ollie is captivated and after I have finished all that, I make her divulge in detail her little rendezvous with Aradan. To my delight I find they are actually quite serious about each other, talk of the future has already cropped up between them, and I know seeing my ring has only made her more misty eyed. She is a die-hard romantic, and a whirlwind romance would be right up her street. She could not have fallen for a better elf; Aradan is so warm and loving and I am practically swooning for her. Happiness is everywhere, and I feel like my family is growing, I just find it wonderful that I get to have all these incredible beings in my life, and that we are all sharing in our joy. I foresee great things happening in the year ahead, spring shall bring hope and joy to us all!

xXx

"A horse? An actual proper sized horse?"

"Yes Clara a proper horse!"

"Can I not just walk? I'm happy with walking."

Thranduil rolls his eyes and leaves me standing in the stable courtyard, which is built seamlessly into the mouth of the caves. Legolas is off chattering with one of the stable hands, a lanky youth with sandy hair, I smile adoringly at him he has the ability to make friends wherever he goes; people just gravitate towards him naturally. In fairness I think the stable boy is getting his ear bent with Legolas' onslaught of over curious questions, I can hear him from here with his usual list of enquiries; who are you, where are you from, what is your favourite horse and why? I swear he is impossible to satisfy, oh that poor lad!

I am suddenly distracted by the sound of the clip clop of heavy hooves on cobble stones, and jerk my head to watch Thranduil, with the help of another stable hand, lead two magnificent beasts into view. I swallow hard at the thought of clambering atop one of those freakishly tall and powerful looking animals. I groan when he grins at me with over excited eyes, then he takes the head collar of the slightly smaller of the two horses, a dappled grey beauty with gentle dark eyes, and presents him to me;

"This is Rochael," he declares and runs a sure hand down his neck, "Come, say hello."

I raise an eyebrow and blow out an uncertain sigh, but approach the creature with a healthy dose of respect;

"Mae g'ovannen Rochael," I murmur and tentatively stroke his great grey muzzle; "You are a beautiful boy aren't you."

"Rochael is a female Clara." Thranduil snorts back amused laughter and I scowl at him so he stops and clears this throat; "A very wise lady, who has many years of experience training new riders."

"Well I apologise Rochael, but this idiot didn't actually introduce you properly did he now?" I giggle and scratch her nose, her ears prick up and I give Thranduil a haughty nod; "The lady agrees you're an idiot."

"I am not the one who has never ridden a horse, how did you ever get around before?" He grumbles and starts tacking up Rochael, and much to my complete horror I see no saddle.

"I walked, it was always safer if I walked or you know we drove…um…carriages," I reply with a roll of my eyes, I doubt Thranduil would understand the term car and I will not be the cause of blowing his head off his shoulders, with descriptions of magic metallic carriages that don't require horses to pull them along.

"Well you are learning, we do not house spoiled little elf ladies in Greenwood, our ellith know how to handle themselves on horseback!" He chortles and gets into position to give me a leg up. I comply but with much scrambling and squeaking, mercifully Rochael is indeed very patient. Once settled on her back with nothing more than a blanket and training reins to grip for balance, I watch Thranduil, rather anxiously claim his own horse.

"Wait! Where are you going? What do I do if she walks off?"" I yelp and as if to prove my point Rochael shakes her head and takes a few steps forwards; "Whoa horsey, please please don't run off!" I whimper and grasp handfuls of her mane in my hands.

"Calm down, she will not move very far unless commanded to do so," Thranduil replies with a snigger at my alarmed expression, and then turns to call this son to him; "Quick Legolas before Clara faints in fear."

"I am not scared!" I snap, "I just don't know what I am doing!"

Legolas scurries towards us and his father catches him around the waist with ease and swings him atop the black as night beast that I assume as his own. With a grace and confidence that I clearly lack, Legolas shuffles forward on the horse and laces his tiny hands with its silky mane. He grins excitedly but clearly registers my complete discomfort and frowns;

"Ada?" he asks and Thranduil glances at him; "If Clara is frightened I can ride with her."

This does nothing to help my dignity as my intended laughs rather loudly and shakes his head vigorously; "Yes Clara if you are that fearful I can have my little boy help you!"

"Thank you Legolas but I will be alright!" I snip and scowl at Thranduil; "At least he actually cares about my safety, unlike some!"

"You are right I am not concerned about your safety, because you are being over dramatic, you will be fine!" He reassures me and attaches a rein to Rochael's bridle which he loops around his forearm, then confidently leads us forward. In one fluid movement Thranduil leaps, yes leaps like a graceful deer, onto his horse behind Legolas. With one hand resting on the animal's neck, his arm unconsciously or strategically curved around his son, and his other hand controlling the reins of Rochael, he urges our little party on at a gentle amble.

For the longest time Thranduil keeps the pace slow and Rochael close to his own mount, whom is called Sirdal, for he is as swift as the river. He tells me Sirdal is a high spirited horse and when the day comes when I can ride a little better, he will show me just how fast he is. I eternally hope that day is far far away in the future! Although I am quite enjoying myself and my confidence is growing, to the point where I am even comfortable at a lively trot, so long as Thranduil remains completely in control of that leading rein!

Legolas keeps us entertained with chitter chatter and song, and his father indulges in his over imaginative and farfetched tales. This is quite a sight to behold, Thranduil is not often so silly or animated with his son but there are the odd occasions. Today is one of them and well deserved no less, after what Legolas has had to witness in the past few days he is entitled to be made a fuss of and made to feel important.

So after a couple of hours of banter and the odd jibe at my poor equestrian skills, we finally reach what I presume to be our intended destination. A quiet glade surrounded by firs and brambles, there is a charming stream babbling through the middle of the glade practically cutting it in two. A lazy winter haze settles through the trees and clings to the sleeping earth like a soothing blanket, but there is life yet in the winter blooms and evergreen plants. In truth Greenwood is a dream, a constantly shifting landscape that changes to suit its mood or season. Some days it is bright with acid colours and deafening noise, other times it is docile and comforting it's quiet heartbeat just thrumming along, and then there are days like these. Days were it is mysterious and silent, like it is hiding wondrous secrets in the very roots of the trees, secrets that it teases you with and makes no promises to tell.

"Clara?" Thranduil's amused voice shatters my daydream and I blink down at him. He has already dismounted and turned Sirdal out to graze.

"Hmm?" I just about reply as I dreamily watch the hazy billows, I feel his hands around my waist about to guide me off Rochael, so I causally turn my head to regard him.

"I love the whimsical look in your eyes when you daydream," he replies with a grin and with a little awkwardness he helps me dismount. Once with my feet firmly on the ground I am suddenly acutely aware of the fact that my butt is so incredibly numb, like dead and I know I will pay heavily tomorrow morning for my horse riding antics.

Once Thranduil and I free Rochael of her burdens and set her free to go join her companion, we find Legolas who has, not surprising, found the muddiest and slipperiest part of the stream to play in. Already the knees of his leggings are streaked with mud, his boots splashed and there is a smear of dirt across his cheek where he is thoughtlessly scrubbed his face. He stops mid mud pie making to beam up at us with a look of complete joy, there is nothing he enjoys more than being a grubby little goblin. Both Thranduil and I sigh in exasperation, and Legolas only ducks his head and peeps up at us with faux apologetic eyes. And it is in this moment that his father shrugs and flops down, rather ungracefully may I add, beside his son to join in the messy play. With a delighted smile I excitedly do the same thing, because I am what I am an overgrown kid or, err, elfling?

A few fun filled and messy hours later, the three of us recline on the blanket that had been used as my makeshift saddle; apparently elves have no need for tack and only retain it for teaching or for armour for their horses when in battle. Legolas lies with his blonde head on my tummy as he messily devours a slice of honey covered walnut bread, and I lie propped up against Thranduil's right shoulder whilst he in turn rests back on the broad trunk of an oak. Legolas is expertly sprawled between the two of us, his now bootless and sockless feet are elevated on his father's hip, and Thranduil indulges in several games of 'this little piggy,' which sends Legolas into the most infectious fits of laughter. I have to say the sight is so heart wrenchingly adorably that I have been grinning like a Cheshire cat all afternoon.

"Ada?" Legolas starts mid mouthful and sits up straighter.

"Legolas don't talk with your mouth full," I chide again for the umpteenth time in a row; I swear he will never get this. He gives me an apologetic grimace and swallows his half chewed food, I sigh and roll my eyes but it is indulgently I cannot be stern with him, not today at least.

"Is Grandpa angry at you and Clara because you are special friends?" He blurts out, not even waiting on his father to acknowledge the question. Thranduil gives me a side long glace, and I inhale sharply, I told him his son was far too observant!

"Special friends?" Thranduil queries whilst keeping his eyes trained on me, I am beginning to blush, it is happening, I can feel the scarlet hue starting in my neck and simmering all the way up to the tips of my ears.

"Yes, like Aradan and Ollie!" He replies with a nod, happy with his assessment, when both Thranduil and I frown in confusion he sighs and begins to elaborate; "Clara said that Aradan is Ollie's special friend because he is nearly always with her now, he gives her flowers and hugs her and says nice things about her. Well you do that with Clara!"

Damn it, I did say that! I said that because I was joking around with Legolas one afternoon in the presence of said special friends, all in the form of friendly banter and wanting to see them squirm in embarrassment. Well that just came back to bite me hard on my already abused ass! However to my complete surprise Thranduil does not get flustered or lose the power of his speech like he usually does, instead he chuckles softly and ruffles Legolas' hair with his hand;

"You miss nothing Ionneg," he mutters and Legolas gives a sheepish grin; "Yes Clara and I are special friends, as you so wisely put it and Grandpa is not angry he is just surprised."

"I bet Grandpa is surprised because you never make any new friends," Legolas replies with a roll of his eyes and I snigger loudly in response.

"Yes I assume so," Thranduil snorts with a less than impressed tone and eyes me threateningly only encouraging my sniggering fit.

"But it is true!" Legolas looks to me with wide eyes, "Grandpa always says Ada is odd because he never talks to anyone anymore. Though I like it that you chose Clara as your friend, I told you she was nice, and I told Grandpa not to worry too because you had Clara now."

Thranduil raises his eyebrows at me and I do the same, though we keep this morsel of information to ourselves. It appears Legolas has been unwittingly telling Oropher all he needed to know to eventually put two and two together. The confrontation in the Throne room was not a coincidence, the King was biding his time, gathering evidence, and it would appear he has been on our trail for a little while now. Smart elf, smart father, I make a mental note to myself to learn these tactics, for someday I know I will be hunting down some young elleth who thinks she is good enough for my little prince.

"Well we have you to thank for that!" I say brightly and wrap my arms around him for a bear hug; he giggles and wriggles about until I free him. "I don't think your Ada and I would have been friends if it wasn't for you!"

"Oh I think we would have," Thranduil interjects and stretches over to push a strand of my tussled hair behind my ear. Legolas observes the exchange with a certain amount of curiosity; I can see the cogs in his mind turn as he considers our over familiarity. After a few moments of staring Legolas crawls over to his Adar and clambers onto his lap to eye him with an accusing look;

"You are looking at Clara funny!" He states and crosses him little arms about his chest, I suppress a chuckle because he looks so much like his father when he pulls an irritated face. Thranduil leans away slightly from his son's forceful glare, getting a taste of his own medicine for a change, and pulls a perplexed expression. "You look at Clara like the way the ladies that used to dance with you looked at you! Why?"

Oh so busted! Seriously the kid is sharp as a pin, those eyes could see to the horizon and beyond and everything in-between! Thranduil just about manages to keep the amused look from his expression, after all this is a serious observation on Legolas' part. He pauses for a moment to consider the best way to approach the topic, and I become very quiet. I never really paused to consider the other option; that Legolas may not be that keen on sharing his father with me, and that this might just upset the balance of his happy existence too much.

"You love Clara very much don't you?" Is Thranduil's sudden very strange question, and Legolas simply nods vigorously; "You have always kept an eye on her, kept her safe and looked after her since she arrived here have you not?"

"Yes!" Legolas states quite confidently; "She is my-" he pauses for a moment and considers his answer; "Well she is very important, and better than any friend I have!"

Oh my heart it just exploded in my chest, I can feel tears gathering in my eyes and I want to butt in and tell Legolas he is very important to me too! From the moment I woke up in this strange world he has never left my side, and even when things got altogether too overwhelming for me, he was there giving me something to get out of bed for. I had to care for him, I had to be there, he kept me stable and sane he was the innocence that needed protected. There are no words or enough ways in which I can thank this child for what he has given me; love and a home would be just some of the things that come to mind. Thranduil regards me for a moment then smiles softly at my tear filled eyes but returns his attention to his baffled son;

"Then it is you I must seek permission from?" He asks Legolas and the child pulls the same confused look I do. Thranduil chuckles softly and reaches across the space between us to take my hand before continuing; "Legolas I love Clara too, she means a great deal to me and, with your consent of course, I would like to make her part of our family."

There is the longest moment of silence and I instantly stop breathing, I study Legolas' expression, which for the most part remains confused. Then ever so slowly realization begins to creep into his young features and he regards us both with a wide eyed look;

"You want Clara to stay with us instead of Ollie?"Legolas queries and fidgets with his tunic.

"In time yes," is Thranduil's gentle reply.

"And she will be family?" He asks again and then narrows his eyes at his father; "like how?"

"Well," Thranduil starts a little more carefully this time, "Whenever the time is right I shall make Clara my wife."

This seems to stun Legolas for a moment, and I start to panic. Maybe this was too much for him; maybe it was a little soon? I am just about to open my mouth and start rambling in an attempt to rectify the situation, when Legolas turns to look at me with an awestruck expression that silences me. He crawls off his father's knee and comes to sit beside me, his big bright eyes never breaking their trance like stare. After a few moments he blinks and a very ecstatic grin is painted across his face, as he turns to his father;

"You have my permission!" He almost sings then throws his arms around me in a very enthusiastic hug, I return the embrace with just as much gusto and begin to laugh, completely relieved that he accepts this. Whislt locked in my arms he rests he is head on my shoulder peacefully and whispers a quiet thank you.

"Thank you for what?" I mutter and pull back to give him an amused look.

"Not you silly!" Legolas giggles; "Iluvatar."

I have done enough studying to know he means their God, or their creator. The elves take this being very seriously; it even surprised me how reverential Thranduil appeared to hold this Iluvatar. I come from a world were spirituality is mocked or made only for the weak willed and lonely, yet here it is the exact opposite. Spirituality and the wisdom pertaining to such is a sign of growth and development, all things must be considered and weighed up under the guidance of the Valar. It is a mystery and a marvel to me, and someday I hope to actually understand it. I cannot doubt that there is something out there, frankly I am living proof, but even the trees and the earth they praise something unseen. Legolas gathers my awestruck and thoughtful expression is due to his statement and thus elaborates;

"I prayed that the Valar would send me a Naneth," he states quite solemnly but a bright smile cracks through his features; "And they did they sent me you!"

The tears from before reappear and I can barely contain my emotion, this is how he sees me and I truly do not deserve it but oh how it makes my heart sing. I am filled with a tidal wave of conflicting emotions, mostly love and a great deal of joy but also fear and panic. This is a level of responsibility that I have never experienced, but something I knew I would have to prepare myself for. I always knew that to love Thranduil was to love his son, it went hand in hand, and that ultimately agreeing to become his wife meant agreeing to accept Legolas as if he were my own child. But to hear how much faith this child has put in me nearly terrifies me, I cannot let him down now and the last thing I ever want to do is to shatter his trust. This bond is rare and I am fully aware of how blessed I am to have this boy's complete acceptance and love, I will never understand how I deserve this but in this moment I vow to fight for it for as long as I live. I have a family now and that is all I ever wanted.

I glance to Thranduil and note there is the same level of emotion in his eyes but he seems to control it better than I do. He only smiles faintly and tightens his grip on my hand, I feel the coolness of the woven branch like silver ring he wears on his finger, an outward reminder of our pledge. However now he clutches my hand tightly, I think almost in comfort or understanding, I guess he realises how overwhelming the thought must be for me. There is also a hint of sadness in his features that suggests his son's words have caused him pain, for it was his and Legolas' birth mother's actions that robbed the child of a maternal figure. Something that I can only guess causes him a great deal of guilt. Absently my mind wonders over my own father, such guilt must be hard to stomach, to wake up every day and consider the implications of your actions on your own flesh and blood; no wonder he gave me up to his sister, it was probably the best thing he could think of doing for me. At least with Aunt Tricia and Uncle Rob I had parent figures, as disastrous and emotionless as their bond was, it was at least a stab at normality. If only I could have grasped that when I was with them, maybe I would have been happier and less closed off like I had the right to have a chip on my shoulder. I cannot change my actions but at least now I can learn from them; I may not be Legolas' birth mother but I can earn the right to be called his mother, I guess this is yet another steep learning curve for me but I readily embrace the challenge.

My long thoughtful silence has obviously unnerved Legolas a little and he lowers his gaze, his cheeks flushing pink;

"Should I call you Nana now?" he murmurs and then peeks to his father for confirmation, Thranduil opens his mouth but no words come out, because really there is no right answer.

"You call me whatever you want!" I say quickly and cup his little face in my hands; "It doesn't change anything about us, you are still my liitle rescuer and you always will be. I love you regardless, and that I can promise!"

Legolas gives me a heart meltingly beautiful smile and turns thoughtful for a moment before answering; "I think I still want to call you Clara for now, Nana sounds funny?"

I laugh and nod; "Yes I agree, maybe you should wait until you're absolutely, one hundred percent, positive that you like the sound of that name?"

"Okay," he nods and adds somberly; "but I still mean what I said."

"I know you do kiddo!" I reply and kiss his forehead, "And I think that is quite possibly the most wonderful thing anyone has ever said to me."

"Really?" He asks suddenly very delighted with himself and I nod enthusiastically. "Even more wonderful than the nice things Ada said?"

"Heaps more!" I confirm with a giggle and he turns to give a smug little nod to his father;

"Clara loves me more!" He says with such self-assured confidence that I just roll my eyes; yes truly it is a case of like father like son, with these two. Thranduil laughs with no small amount of relief as Legolas tackles him with another bone crunching hug, then darts off to burn some energy climbing the nearest tree. He is so excited and happy I doubt I will ever get him to calmed down, it will be a long evening of questions, of that I am sure.

Thranduil and I spend a few moments quietly communing over the exchange, I know there is a lot he wants to say to me and I to him, but for the most part we just settle on a very long loving embrace. There will eons of time to articulate our feelings in the future, but right now I just want to soak up the details of this moment and store them away in my memory forever. We watch over Legolas for a little while before Thranduil states he wants to go for a stroll in the woods before it gets any later. He puts Legolas on his broad shoulders, and takes my hand to guide us through the surrounding wood, like he knows where he is going.

The forest grows quieter the further we walk, but not in an ominous or threatening way, it becomes peaceful and still like it is watching us. The hazy mist weaves in and out the trees and in the distance I can hear waterfalls, so I gather we have reached the river the little stream from before joins with. Everything is such a dark, almost bluish green that it is captivating and other worldly, set against the wisps of grey haze. I fancy that this place is magical, or at least some sort of ancient kingdom not under the command of any living elf or man, this place belongs solely to nature. I hear movement deep in the ethereal shadows of the wood and turn to look to Thranduil with a slight panicked expression.

"What was that?" I whisper, because to speak any louder would sound too deafening in the stillness.

"Iorist," Thranduil only murmurs in reply and gently eases his son down from his shoulders, Legolas quickly comes to curl into my side. He hides behind me and grips my hand, as we both watch his father stupidly walk forward in an almost humble manner, like how one would approach royalty.

It is then in the dissipating mist that I make the form of something large and not at all humanoid making its way toward us. I gasp sharply and protectively curve around Legolas, who practically melds into my side.

"Thranduil?" I hiss resisting the urge to trail him back towards us for safety, "Wha-"

"Hush, this is an honour!" Thranduil quietly gestures for us to remain where we are, and slowly diverts his gaze to the ground in respect of whatever it is that watches us from beyond the mist.

Then in one still moment the haze rolls away and the silhouette of a great deer like creature appears before us, larger than anything I have ever seen. Its antlers are huge, spanning an incredible width and I cannot even fathom how he holds his regal head so high with the weight of such a phenomenal crown. He watches us with composed elegance and seems to be truly considering our worth, I feel like I should bow in the presence of something so majestic. This is a dream this can hardly be real, I pinch myself only to confirm the obvious truth, I am awake and this is happening. Then to my utter shock the great beast comes to stand before Thranduil, and with his hand outstretched, the animal cautiously sniffs it before pressing the great muzzle into his hand.

"Thranduil?" I barely squeak again, and quickly grapple for Legolas who has curiously wandered forward a few steps. He stops instantly and gives me a pleading look, I frown at him, there is no way he is skipping over there that thing could crush him!

"It is alright," Thranduil eventually speaks; "You can come forward, he allows it."

"What is he?" I mutter as Legolas pulls me forward, though I go reluctantly.

"He is Iorist," he repeats again and gently strokes the great tawny face of the beast; "He and his kind are from the realms of lore, no one would believe elk such as he still rule the forests of Arda."

"An elk?" I gasp, "but he is huge, he is a giant!" By this stage I have now come to stand behind Thranduil, who has lifted Legolas up into his arms to allow him to pet the beast.

The animal snorts and sniffs around the child, whilst I have a mild stroke at Legolas being so close to such a wild animal. Thranduil seems completely as ease as he whispers in elvish to the elk, I make out the odd phrase and I know he is introducing Legolas to him as his own or his child, or something to do with heir. After a moment Iorist lifts his magnificent head and almost gestures to something in the far end of the wood, he lets out a low call that shatters the silence for a moment, and makes me jump clean out of my skin. The quietness resumes and then a soft bleat can be heard on the air, and as I strain through the haze I make out more movement. There huddled in the dense foliage is a small herd of elk, female, cows I guess would be the correct term; much larger and grander than any image or memory I can recall of an elk. There is another bleat and I now make out the shape of a calf, close to one particularly female who stands closer to us than the main herd. She watches the little one with a great deal of caution, as she stands between it and us, allowing us to look but nothing more. This is Iorist's son, his heir, he is making the connection and it is an incredible scene. Thranduil bows his head in thanks and the elk almost appears to do the same, before he turns and strides off towards his herd, re-joining the female and infant that patiently await him.

I stand gobsmacked and rendered powerless for the longest moment and then turn to give Thranduil the same awestruck look, he just nods in understanding;

"Iorist is a friend of the woodland elves," he states in a matter of fact tone, "This is his forest as much as it is ours. He is a King to his kind, and with any ruler boundaries and friendship must be maintained for the good of both realms."

"You oversee this particularly relationship?" I ask nervously, still watching the disappearing figures of the herd.

"I found his father many moons ago," Thranduil replies and casually takes my hand to lead us back in the direction we came; "I was hunting, for sport, in the woods and stumbled upon one of the great cows you just beheld. I could not believe my luck, if I returned with this prize I would gain much respect from my young peers. But just as I was about to take my shot, he appeared only a few feet from where I crouched. I was stunned to silence, I was certain such a beast would kill me, for I was really a scrawny youth and one blow from those antlers would have rendered me unconscious. However he just stared at me with wise eyes, leaving me just as speechless as you are now, then within a few moments a young calf skittered across my path and joined its mother, the cow I was so ready to slaughter without thought. He taught me a valuable lesson that day, life is precious in all its forms and to take a life without consideration for its implications is both cruel and unwise. It does not make for a good Prince or a good warrior."

"But if that was his father?" I barely whisper as I try to do the mental math; "And you were a youth, how old are these creatures?"

"As old as elves I would imagine?" He shrugs unconcernedly, "Though not immortal, but time moves slower with them as it does with us, I guess this is why I have such an affinity with them."

"An affinity?" I murmur as I still try and wrap my head around the whole event.

"Well from that day I felt quite a spiritual attachment to that creature, I used to track the herd for days on end just to watch him and how he ruled. I learnt a lot about nature and the balance of the forest from he and his kin, and I gained quite the friendship with the calf I inadvertently spared."

"The calf was Iorist wasn't it?" I ask though I am well aware of the answer

"Yes," Thranduil grins sheepishly, "You know he will let me ride him if the need is dire, or if he feels particularly indulgent. Though I have come to the conclusion he just likes to show off."

"Show off?"

"You know because he has a pet elf that follows him around!"

To this I roar with laughter, and even Legolas joins in, who has been just as captivated by his father's tale as I have. I would heartily agree that this is the case, because I don't think you would ever tame an animal such as that, though I doubt you could ever tame an elf like Thranduil. There is something much deeper to him than he lets on, a cloaked enlightenment that he rarely lets slip, but I think I saw a glimpse of that today. He is always so acutely connected to his surroundings and it is not something that is natural to all elves, it is something purely distinctive to him. I never see him more alive and more himself than when he is within the woods. His home…our home.


End file.
